


a fatal blindness

by onibi



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, The Iliad - Homer, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Misunderstandings, Road Trips, Sexual Content, Sharing a Bed, Some Angst with a Happy Ending, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 06:12:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 40,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12382518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onibi/pseuds/onibi
Summary: “Wait,” Achilles says. “Is she the one dating Menelaus?”Patroclus screws up his face. “I think so? Penelope said they were on and off, or something.”“Hey, there’s a reason she might have just run away,” Achilles says. “That guy is an asshole.”(or: the high school graduation road trip modern AU of the iliad no one but me has been waiting for)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i've wanted to write this for so long you guys holy shit! i'm finally doing it. atm i think i'll work on it in NANOWRIMO. i'll try my best!
> 
> also if u read my other fic apollo was moved a little too late - that was basically a failed attempt at what i want this to be. don't bother reading it it's v badly paced and i really want this to get it right
> 
> title from the e.v. rieu’s translation of the iliad (in “the death of patroclus”) sorry i forgot which line i'm a hopeless student

**p-dog**

7:39 p.m.

_dude have you heard helen is msissing????_

_*MISSING_

_did not mean to undercut that with a typo i’m actually freakinfg out_

_fuck_

 

Achilles squints at his phone. He wipes his forehead off, sweaty from his run. He was about to get in the shower, but this text from Patroclus gives him pause.

The phone nickname was something Patroclus did the other day. Achilles doesn’t know how to change it back.

 

**Achilles**

8:03 p.m.

_What? Are you serious?_

_& Who’s Helen again?_

 

**p-dog**

8:03 p.m.

_are you shitting me dude??? we’ve had classes with her for literally all high school_

_she’s won like a million awards for being a genius or something_

 

**Achilles**

8:04 p.m.

_I never pay attention to those announcements._

 

**p-dog**

8:05 p.m.

_ugh of course_

_anyway she’s clytemnestra’s sister_

 

**Achilles**

8:05 p.m.

_Who?_

 

**p-dog**

8:05 p.m.

_omfg_

_I’m coming over_

 

Achilles drops his phone on his bed, figuring that gives him about enough time to shower. He takes off his sweaty clothes and dumps them in the hamper next to his door. It’s looking pretty full. His room is a mess.

Next week was both his eighteenth birthday, final exams, and the end of high school.

He’s been going on runs a lot.

It’s not like he usually doesn’t, but more than ever, he’s been running at least once in the morning and once at night, as far and hard as his body will let him. His afternoons and weekends throughout his high school years were often spent with Patroclus, doing everything they could think of and nothing at all. But Patroclus has been really busy lately. So has Achilles. They see each other at school enough, but even for the last few weeks Patroclus has had his head in a book – revising, taking practice tests, reading and reading and reading.

He steps out of the shower and wraps a towel around his waist, walking straight back into his bedroom.

Patroclus is sitting on his bed. “Hey!”

“Hey. You know you could ring the doorbell first before just coming in, right?”

Patroclus gets up and seems to register Achilles has just got out of the shower, because he averts his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck. “Come on, I can’t even remember the last time I had to ring the doorbell here. It’s just you anyway. Right? Uh, your mum’s not home?”

Achilles shakes his head. He walks over to his drawers to pull out something to wear.

“I’ll just wait in the hall a second.”

Before Achilles can say it’s fine, he doesn’t care, Patroclus is out in the hallway, closing the door behind himself. Achilles throws on an old grey shirt and black sweatpants in about five seconds total. He goes over to the door and pulls it back open. Patroclus is biting his nails.

“Jesus,” he says. “That was fast.”

Achilles just nods. “You say someone’s missing?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah! It’s all over Facebook – have you not seen it? Penelope is really upset. She’s just gone. Her parents are issuing a proper police report and stuff.”

Achilles flops back onto his bed, pushing his long, wet hair back over his face. “Woah.”

“Yeah. Woah. It’s scary. There are people saying she might have been kidnapped, even. I don’t want to think about that. She’s a really nice girl – I’ve only talked to her once but she seemed, like, really genuine. I don’t know, I thought a girl that popular and beautiful has got to be kind of mean, right? But she’s not. And if she’s friends with Penny I know she’s not.” Patroclus sighs and sits down on the bed next to Achilles.

“Yeah, because if she was a mean girl she’d deserve to be kidnapped.”

“Shut up,” he says, punching Achilles in the arm. “That’s not what I mean, dick. I’m just worried.”

Achilles bites his lip and sits up. “You know, she’s probably just run away.”

Patroclus frowns. “Why would she do that?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know her.”

“Come on, dude. I know you do. She’s in our biology class! Blonde hair, red cheeks, always wears floral dresses and denim jackets…”

Achilles does think he’s seen her. Smiled at her, even – that’s right. She always seemed to be smiling.

“I think that rings a bell…” he mutters.

Patroclus rolls his eyes. “Leave it to you not to notice someone that unreasonably pretty. You have such a one-track mind, I swear.” He winces. “That was not a track pun. Fuck. I hate myself.”

Achilles laughs, trying to hide the fact he finds Patroclus’ apparent admiration for this girl a little unnerving. Sure, it’s normal for him to be worried that someone is missing, but he didn’t know Patroclus would care this much. What exactly could they do about it, anyway?

“Wait,” Achilles says. “Is she the one dating Menelaus?”

Patroclus screws up his face. “I think so? Penelope said they were on and off, or something.”

“Hey, there’s a reason she might have just run away,” Achilles says. “That guy is an asshole.”

Patroclus actually laughs at that, and Achilles feels warm. He looks tired. There’s a slight redness to his eyes and his normally bouncy hair is a little flat, like he hasn’t showered in a while.

“Do you want to sleep here? You look tired.”

Patroclus holds his eyes for a few moments, considering. Then shakes his head. “Nah, thanks. I am really fucking tired, but biology is killing me. Murdering me. Gouging my eyes out and making soup with them. And I have to pass. So I gotta get home and study before bed.”

Achilles nods. He’s a little disappointed, even mad, that he can’t help at all, and that Patroclus won’t sleep here.

“You know, you’re the scientist, so you do know that brains don’t work properly if you don’t get enough sleep, right?”

Patroclus shrugs. “And I won’t get in to university if I don’t pass biology. So. I’m making it work.”

He gets up. Achilles wants immediately to pull him back down, but he’s already heading for the door. He throws a bouncy ball at his back.

“You are so dumb for someone so smart.”

Patroclus flips him off. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow,” he says.

“Yeah. Wait.”

Patroclus turns.

“Can you change your name in my phone back first?”

-

The next day, in biology (a class he literally only took because Patroclus said they needed to take one last class together), he makes a point to notice the blonde girls’ absence. Because maybe Patroclus is right. He doesn’t exactly pay attention to the world around him. And he pretty much has only one friend in the entire school, probably as a result of that.

There is a noticeably empty space next to the desk where Patroclus’ friend Penelope sits. Penelope, who is currently looking more tired and weary than Patroclus was last night, her dark skin looking washed out and her currently greasy hair tied loosely in a bun. Patroclus isn’t here yet.

Cursing himself, he manages to go over to where Penelope is sitting.

“Hi,” he says.

It takes a moment for her to look up at him. She frowns. “Uh. Hi.”

Achilles clears his throat. “Patroclus has told me your friend is… missing. I-” He pauses. He what? What is he doing?

“Yeah?” Penelope says, cocking her head to the side.

“I just wanted to say, that – I hope she’s back soon.”

Well that sounds weird. What the fuck is he talking about?

 “Oh – uh, thank you, Achilles. I do too.”

To her credit, she manages to smile at him quite warmly. It’s probably more than he deserves. He hasn’t said two words to her –  _ever –_  despite her friendship with the closest person in his life. He’s not great at talking to girls. Most girls, anyway. There was one exception.

Anyway, he nods and walks back over to his desk, feeling stupid. That’s why he doesn’t do that.

Moments later, Patroclus walks into the room, looking worse than he did last night. He sits next to Penelope first, placing his hand on her shoulder with an ease Achilles wishes he could have with people – any people, other than Patroclus. Not that he doesn’t like having it with Patroclus. It would be nice to have it with others, is all. He just doesn’t want to have to go through the small talk and bullshit get to that stage. Plus, it’ll probably have to happen inevitably when, or if, he goes to university after summer.

Alone, without his best friend.

Patroclus comes and sits next to him. “No word on Helen,” he sighs.

Achilles reaches up and touches his shoulder. He rubs his thumb up and down over his shirt.

“She’ll be fine,” Patroclus says, mostly to himself.

-

At lunch, Achilles goes to sit where he and Patroclus usually sit together. He eats and waits, but he doesn’t show up.

 

**Achilles**

12:14 p.m.

_Where are you?_

 

The cafeteria is loud, and the food sucks. It’s one thing he certainly won’t miss about his high school. Some of the track team wave to him as they pass. They’re not his friends, really, but they like that he’s athletic and assume that means they have something in common.

 

**patty cakes**

12: 16 p.m.

_sorry emergency with penny_

 

Achilles looks at his phone, frowning. With Patroclus, ‘emergency’ usually meant something like his favourite band just released a new single and it was too amazing not to try and illegally download in the computer lab, or that he’d left his notes at home and was trying to scab someone else’s. But because of the stuff with Helen, he wasn’t so sure.

 

**Achilles**

12:17

_Is everything okay? Can I help?_

 

**patty cakes**

12:17

_uhhh_

_I don’t know how to answer that_

_I mean you can come_

_yeah you should probably come_

_we’re in G12_

 

**Achilles**

12:18

_On my way._

 

Without even throwing away his food, Achilles is out of the cafeteria and into the hallway. When he enters the classroom Patroclus told him to, Penelope is sitting with her head in her hands.

“What’s wrong?” he says.

“You’re okay with telling him, yeah?” Patroclus asks, and Penelope nods without lifting her head.

“Penny got a text from Helen,” he sighs, and shows Achilles her phone.

 

**Unknown Number**

11:05 a.m.

_Pen – it’s me. I need you to know I’m okay but please don’t tell the police or my parents or anyone please - I’ve gone far away can’t talk I love you. I love you._

 

Achilles frowns. “This sounds bad.”

Patroclus bites his lip. “Yeah, it does a little. But we know she’s okay.”

“No we don’t. This could be anyone.”

Penelope looks up. Her eyes are red.

Patroclus punches him in the arm. “Don’t say that, dude!”

“No, he’s right,” Penelope says. “It could be anyone. She could be kidnapped, or worse – we don’t know.”

“So we tell the police,” Achilles says.

Penelope gets up and stands squarely in front of Achilles. “No.”

“What?”

“I said no. If this is her, she trusted me with this. You don’t know her. I do. And something is wrong. If it is her –“

“And if it isn’t?”

“This is why she didn’t want me to tell anyone!”

“Stop,” Patroclus says. “Stop. Let’s just text her back first, okay? She didn’t say you couldn’t do that.”

He reaches for Achilles hand, and Achilles realises how tightly his fingers were wrapped around the object.  Patroclus gently pries them open and pulls the phone from his hand. His fingers are warm, a little rough.

“What do I say?” Penelope asks, taking the phone back for herself.

“Ask her for a way to know she’s okay.”

Penelope nods and types something out. She shows it to Patroclus. Achilles leans over to look.

 

_i PROMISE i won’t tell any police as long as you let me know youre ok somehow. understand i don’t know whose phone this even is and someone could be holding u captive ok please please i love you too_

 

“That’s good,” Patroclus says. She nods and sends it.

“Thanks for being here,” she says, resting her head on Patroclus’ shoulder. Achilles shifts on his feet and looks away.

“You too, Achilles. I know she said not to tell anyone, but I had to. I need people to talk to right now.”

Achilles meets her eyes, soft and sad. He offers her a smile, which she does her best to return.

“I’m so worried about her,” she sighs.

Her phone bleeps.

She looks at the both of them. Then at her phone in her hands. She doesn’t say anything, or move, as she reads it.

“What does it say?” Patroclus says.

She shows them the phone.

 

**Unknown Number**

12:39

_sorry idk who this is I think you’re trying to reply to the girl who borrowed my phone today? wtf is going on?_

 

“A girl!” Patroclus says, lighting up. Penelope just looks back at her phone and types something out, not bothering to show the boys. A few moments later there’s another bleep. Patroclus and Achilles huddle in around her shoulders.

 

**Penelope**

12:41

_a girl? what did she look like?? was she with anyone??? where did u see her???_

 

**Unknown Number**

12:42

_blonde girl, teenager I think. wasn’t with anyone that I could see – we were in a petrol station and I was buying a drink she just came up and asked me_

 

Penelope frantically types again.

 

**Penelope**

12:42

_WHERE?_

 

Patroclus looks at Achilles with concern, and then at Penelope. “What are we going to do if we know where she is, Penelope? She said she’s gone far away. By the time we got there, we’d probably be too late.”

“You don’t know that,” Penelope says, sounding doubtful herself.

“At least we know it’s her,” Achilles says. “A blonde teenage girl who knows your number by heart.”

Penelope’s face lights up at this. “Yeah. That is true.”

_Bleep._

 

**Unknown Number**

12:45

_why should I tell u? u said police involved. don’t wanna get in trouble_

 

Penelope’s face falls again.

“I hate this,” she says. “I hate this so much. I hate this!”

Before either of them can stop her, she’s pressing dial on her phone.

“Penny, wait –” Patroclus starts.

“Hello? Who is this?... Please, I’m just looking for my friend. You’re not going to be in trouble, I just need to find her… excuse me?... What am I  _wearing?”_

Achilles grabs the phone from her hand. “Where the fuck are you?”

Silence. Penelope takes it back, listens.

“Great. He hung up.”

Achilles purses his lips.

“He was just trying to help, Pen,” Patroclus says, softly.

She shakes her head. “I know. I’m going to go. You guys should too."

Leaving the room swiftly, she says her goodbye without turning to face them. Achilles looks at the clock. They have class soon.

“That guy was an asshole,” he mumbles.

Patroclus nods. Bites his lip again. Achilles notices it’s redder than usual, almost swollen. He looks so goddamn tired. Achilles wants to force him to go home right now and get some sleep.

“I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah,” Achilles nods. They stand, facing each other, and Achilles feels a sudden, desperate urge to pull Patroclus in for a hug. Before he can finish the thought, Patroclus is grabbing his bag and heading towards the door.

 

-

 

**Patroclus**

9:04 p.m.

_hey_

 

Looking up from his biology textbook, Achilles smiles at his phone. It’s only in part because he figured out how to change his phone contact names back.

 

**Achilles**

9:05 p.m.

_Hey there._

 

**Patroclus**

9:05 p.m.

_I hate biology_

_I hate it and it’s cancelled_

_I’m so fucking tired man_

 

**Achilles**

9:06 p.m.

_Stop studying. Just for tonight._

 

He pauses, looks around his room. He’s tapping his fingers on his desk. Patroclus hasn’t taken a break in too long.

 

_Come over and watch a movie with me._

 

**Patroclus**

9:08 p.m.

_you don’t know how tempting that is_

 

**Achilles**

9:08 p.m.

_I think I do. I’ve been reading the last three paragraphs on mitosis for an hour._

_Mitosis, in particular, can get fucked._

 

**Patroclus**

9:10 p.m.

_maybe just the people who write biology textbooks_

_it’s like they’re going out of their way to be boring_

_their editor checked the first draft and was like dude you almost made this part sound like it’s a cool science miracle_

_go back and make it dryer than an egyptian tomb_

_on that note why did I take ancient history and who cares about the engineering innovations of the pyramids I just want to watch a movie with my best friend_

 

**Achilles**

9:14 p.m.

_We could watch The Mummy._

_Pretty much educational._

 

**Patroclus**

9:15 p.m.

_ughghhhhhh_

_I can’t_

_as soon as exams are over I promise_

_except not the mummy_

_even that will be way too close to learning_

_something like transformers_

_mind-numbing stupidity_

_plus I know you’re not above how hot megan fox is_

_not even I am immune_

 

**Achilles**

9:17 p.m.

_I’m not going to deny that she’s pretty._

_But since I don’t know her, that’s all there is, isn’t there?_

 

**Patroclus**

9:19 p.m.

_I mean of course I don’t know her as a PERSON_

_no one knows hot celebrities as people_

_like you’re right we don’t know shit she could kill puppies for fun_

_or think batman is the best superhero_

 

**Achilles**

9:20 p.m.

_Equally terrible things._

 

**Patroclus**

9:21 p.m.

_anyway stop trying to talk to me about how much you love megan fox_

_I’m trying to do some work here_

 

**Achilles**

9:21 p.m.

_Dick._

 

**Patroclus**

9:24 p.m.

_love you too_

 

Achilles gets absolutely no work done for the rest of the night.

 

**-**

 

 

**_Cassandra commented on this._ **

**Clytemnestra**

45 minutes ago

To the people incessantly posting theories about my sister: shut the fuck up.   
That’s seriously all I have to say to you.

And for fucks’ sake if I get another message about how you’re praying for me,  
I will be breaking legs. Just leave me alone you absolute vultures.

Cassandra and 4 others like this.         8 comments

**Cassandra**

  everything is going to be fine. x

   **Agamemnon**

WTF do you know about it. she said shut up.

  **Cassandra**

she said a lot of things

  **Agamemnon**

what’s that even supposed to mean

**Cassandra**

you’re bad at sex

   **Agamemnon**

  ha – ha – ha, wow. no one cares what you think.

  **Clytemnestra**

  READ MY FUCKING STATUS AGAIN YOU FUCK UPS HOLY SHIT

**Clytemnestra**

  SHE IS NOT WRONG BUT IT’S NOT THE FUCKING TIME AND YOU SHOULD BOTH KNOW THAT

      

 

 

**_Patroclus commented on this._ **

**Penelope**

2 hours ago

this is another post asking anyone who knows or hears anything to tell me right away.   
I just want to know my best friend is safe. I love you guys. xx

56 likes                               29 comments

**Patroclus**

hope I see you at school tmrw. love you

 

 

 

**Briseis shared _Cutest Puppies Ever_ ’s post.**

2 hours ago

actually crying guys

_Watch as this baby border collie sees snow for the first time!_

 

 

-

Over the next few days Achilles barely sees his best friend. When he does, Patroclus is exhausted, can hardly formulate a sentence. Penelope is absent from their classes. Every time Achilles opens a book to study, his mind immediately starts to drift.

Halfway through lunch on Friday, he sighs and puts down his sandwich. “We seriously can’t be expected to just… go through school like normal while this is happening.”

Patroclus pulls his gaze from where it was fixed on the wall. “What? Oh. Yeah.” He sighs. “It sucks but it’s not… I mean, for her close friends and family it’s actually hard. For the rest of the school it’s like, the world can’t stop moving.”

Achille frowns. “Why not? A girl is missing. Why does this shit matter?”

“I know. I know.” Patroclus pinches the bridge of his nose. “Trust me, dude, I fucking know. But I have to think about my future. Dwelling on something I can’t fix, it’s just. A waste of time.”

Achilles reaches out and puts his left hand over Patroclus’s own, resting on the table.

“I’m worried about you.”

Patroclus looks at him. He swallows. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

“I am. I just have to get through next week.”

Achilles flips Patroclus’s hand over and squeezes his soft, rough fingers in his own.

“Please take tonight off. You’ve studied so hard. You need to rest.” He leans in. “Come home with me.”

His heart is beating wildly. He needs Patroclus to say yes, needs it desperately. Because he’s so tired. Because he needs to take a break and Achilles doesn’t know how to do it if not to make him, at this point.

Patroclus holds his gaze.

His phone beeps.

Patroclus’s hand slips out from Achilles grasp and reaches into his pocket to pull out the phone. He looks down at the screen and Achilles leans back, sinking into his chair.

“It’s Penelope,” Patroclus says.

Achilles sits back up.

“She knows where Helen is.”


	2. Chapter 2

A sticky, suffocating heat has filled the entire apartment, and Helen refuses to turn the air conditioner on. She lies, stuck and melting into the unmade king-sized mattress, window open and blowing in the hot summer air. It really was getting hot early this year.

At six in the morning she’d gone outside and picked the daisies in the park across the road, spent an hour making a daisy chain. At seven she came back inside, Paris hunched over a bowl of cereal on the kitchen counter.

“Hey,” he says, mouth full.

“Morning.”

He gestures to her hair with his spoon. The daisy chain is wrapped around her head and trailing down her front, all the way to her hips.

“Cute,” he says.

She looks down. “Mm,” she murmurs, twirling the end of the chain in her fingers. “Busy day today?”

“As always,” he sighs. “I’ll be back for dinner. You’ll cook?”

Helen nods. Done with his cereal, he dumps the bowl in the sink and picks up his bag. On the way out, he kisses her softly and she closes her eyes, letting him.

After the door is closed, she goes over to the sink and stares into it. She tugs the daisy chain off her head and throws it away.

 

-

 

 

> _Sweetest Penelope, an angel among men, goddess among women._
> 
> _I am so sorry if you’ve been worried about me. Not if, I should say, because I know you and all you do is worry. You don’t deserve that. I don’t care if anyone else does – but not you. Why did you have to go and be so good to me?_
> 
> _I love you too much not to contact you. I am trusting you to please not tell my family, or the police. I have done something terrible and I can’t come home. I’m with somebody. I’m safe._
> 
> _All I’ll say right now is, and you probably know this, I’ve wanted to leave for a long time. The longest time. And then I met you and you were the brightest thing in my life, someone I could always count on, someone who made me want to stay. I want you to know that! I really tried to stay because of you. But you have your darling boyfriend and other amazing friends and to be the only good thing in someone’s life is just too much of a burden for me to place on anyone._
> 
> _That said, I don’t want to make your decisions for you. I’ve decided to have this new life but I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to you for real and that’s not fair on either of us._
> 
> _So I’m telling you where to find me. If you don’t want to, let me know. I should be here a while, so if you want to come, I’d welcome you with open arms – any week, any year, any lifetime._
> 
> _Yours always,_
> 
> _Helen_

 

They’re at a park around the mid-point between Achilles and Patroclus’ house, Achilles has no idea where it is in relation to Penelope’s home. Tomorrow exams begun. Achilles only had two, the others – physical education, home economics and basic mathematics – didn’t have exams. Patroclus has five in a week, and had been studying non-stop. Penelope didn’t seem all that worried about school, especially as she showed them the email.

“I’m going,” Penelope says.

“What? When? How? Why?” Patroclus stutters. “Sorry, that wasn’t supposed to be like… but, seriously, how?”

“I don’t know. She got there, didn’t she?”

“Yeah, she says she’s with somebody. They probably drove her.”

Penelope sighs. “That part worries me, honestly. Who is she with? She tells me everything.”

“Sorry, but that doesn’t seem to be the case,” Achilles says. Penelope frowns at him. “It’s nothing to do with you. Everyone has secrets.”

Patroclus raises an eyebrow at this.

“You know I’m right,” Achilles says.

They stand in silence for a few moments. Achilles feels like he’s in a room with a couple of zombies. Neither of them look like they’ve had nearly enough sleep lately.

Not that Achilles has been doing the best with that, either. Usually he sleeps like the dead, but for the past week he’s found himself staring up at the roof of his bedroom. Thinking and thinking and thinking. Throwing the sheets off his body. Thinking about a whole lot of things. Which is pretty uncharacteristic of him, usually only thinking about a small lot of things.

His birthday is on Friday. For the past couple years, he’s had brunch with his mother (sometimes Patroclus too, if they can convince him) and then driven somewhere, usually a beach, with Patroclus. They camp and hike and celebrate the end of the school year.

He’s had the feeling for a while now that might not happen, because Patroclus’ last exam is on Friday, and Achilles didn’t want to bring up “hey, straight after you’re done with that, are we gonna celebrate _me_?” And, a girl is missing.

And, also, maybe he doesn’t feel a whole lot like celebrating the end of this school year.

When Patroclus inevitably gets into university, a state away, they won’t see each other anymore. He’s been pretending that’s not true all year, but it is.

Right now, Patroclus is looking worriedly back and forth between him and Penelope.

“I’ll come with you, Pen. As soon as exams are over.”

Achilles feels his gut clench.

“You will?” both Achilles and Penelope say, simultaneously.

“Yeah. I’m not gonna let you go all that way on your own, and I know I can’t convince you to stay,” Patroclus shrugs. “Plus, there is always the chance Helen is… I don’t know. Still not okay. We have to find her and talk to her in person.”

Achilles runs his hands through his hair, either side of his head, scrunching up his eyes. “You two read the letter, she’s probably fine! Just wanted to get away from a shitty situation – she’s legally an adult now, right? We should let her be.”

“ _You_ can do whatever you want,” Penelope says. “We’re going.”

Achilles looks at Patroclus and sighs. “You don’t even have a car.”

“You do.”

He shakes his head. “No.”

Patroclus grabs Achilles' forearm, and pulls his body towards him. Achilles finds himself inches from Patroclus' face, which is the picture of concern. Big brown eyes, dark, slightly washed-out skin, a little stubble, and his down turned red mouth. He swallows.

"Achilles, I want you to trust me," he says. It's almost a whisper. "I'd do anything for you. You know that, and I know you'd probably - you probably feel the same?"

Achilles nods.

"I think we should do this. I want you to help - if not for Helen or Penelope, just for me."

He loses a few moments in his best friends' eyes before letting his own flutter shut. God fucking damn it, there really isn’t anything Patroclus would ask of him that he’d be capable of saying no to. "Fuck. Okay," he murmurs. "Okay."

He opens his eyes and Patroclus is grinning. "Thanks."

"Yeah, thanks," Penelope says, and Achilles pulls back and turns toward her. She's a little flushed, but offering Achilles a very genuine and very warm smile. She's all doe-eyes and softness, and Achilles gets why the guys were asking about her so much in gym this week. Probing him for a lot of information he didn't have, apparently noticing how much he and Patroclus had been around her lately. Which is something Achilles doesn't really get. How do people have time to pay attention to who hangs around who? His day-to-days are basically run, study, run, weights sometimes, Patroclus, mum, run, Patroclus, sleep. All he could really offer them is ' _she's probably not interested',_  which made them talk even more, crudely and provocatively, which both made Achilles pretty thankful this would all be over soon, and that he'd never made friends with any of those dickheads.

"I'll pay for the fuel. I have money from my summer job," Penelope offers.

They start to discuss when they are going to leave (as soon as Patroclus and Achilles' biology exam finishes, which is Friday afternoon, and also Achilles' birthday) and pull up google maps on their phones to chart a route, the necessary stops at camping grounds for the cheapest stays, which also means Patroclus and Achilles will need to pack up their camping gear. He supposes he's kind of getting his birthday wish, in a way. Not under ideal circumstances, sure, but at least that might distract Achilles from thinking about the perilously close ‘never seeing his best friend again’ thing.

“I gotta go study,” Patroclus says, sighing.

Penelope nods. “I’ll keep in touch. With… both of you.” She purses her lips, then steps forwards and takes Achilles hand in hers. She stands up on the tip of her toes, and kisses his cheek. Achilles feels himself going red. She goes over to Patroclus and does the same, and Patroclus just smiles warmly and pulls her into a hug.

Achilles exchanges phone numbers with Penelope and then she’s gone.

“Do you want to cram for biology together?” Achilles offers.

Patroclus kicks the dirt. “Maybe. Yeah.”

They wander back to Achilles’ house, mostly in silence. It’s a windy day, but a hot, dry wind, blowing around fallen leaves and dust.

“How’re things at home?” Achilles offers. Patroclus just shrugs, hands in his shorts’ pockets, which Achilles knows means _not great, please don’t push further._ He squints up into the yellow-orange light of the sky. At least with Patroclus’ scholarship and moving away, he’d be able to live on his own.

Thetis answers the door before they even knock.

“Oh, Patroclus! What a surprise! Come in, come in, both of you,” she says, ushering them inside. “Did you two go out to eat lunch, or are you hungry? I’d be more than happy to make some lunch for two such hard working young men.”

Patroclus gives Achilles a goofy grin, which he returns, a little sheepishly.

“That’d be great, thanks. Can we help?”

Before he’s even done with the sentence, she’s turned to run into the kitchen. On most Fridays and Saturdays, she’s home, and Achilles usually spends the whole day with her. If it were up to her, she’d probably adopt Patroclus herself.

Patroclus flops onto Achilles’ bed as soon as they enter his room. It isn’t made, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Can I be honest?” Patroclus says.

“Dude. Always.”

“I don’t want to study.”

Achilles laughs. “I could have guessed that.”

“I mean, really though. I’ve studied as much as I possibly can.” He shrugs. “I’ll probably do some more tomorrow, but tonight can we just, I don’t know. Watch a movie?”

“Oh my god,” Achilles says. “Yes. Fuck, yes, of course. Finally.”

They open up Netflix and fight over genres for a while before Thetis calls them into the kitchen. She’s made up a spread of bread and sandwich fixings, already taking a bite into her own. They make a truly unreasonable amount of sandwiches, piled onto their plates, and Thetis grins warmly. “We have plenty of fruit too!” she says, pushing a bowl towards them, and they walk into Achilles’ bedroom with food enough for at least six people.

After not being able to decide between an action film (Achilles’ choice), a sci-fi (Patroclus’ choice) or a horror (something they are both only kind of in the mood for), they choose a selection of all three.

Halfway through Twelve Monkeys, after miraculously finishing all his sandwiches and moving onto a slice of watermelon, Achilles realises how much they needed this. Him, to be able to actually spend time with his best friend, and Patroclus, to finally take a break and have fun.

Just as he’s thinking this, he feels the warm heat of Patroclus’ head rest on his shoulder. The soft brown curls on his arm. He sits perfectly still, unbreathing.

Then, he hears the soft, even breath coming from Patroclus’ mouth and realises he’s fallen asleep.

Achilles grabs the remote and presses pause on the movie. Carefully, he extracts his shoulder from Patroclus’ weight and lowers his body down to a pile of cushions on the floor. He watches as his body curls up, face rolling into the fabric.

Achilles decides to go for a run and let him sleep, for a while. It’s the hottest part of the day, the building heat of the midday sun lingering into the burnt orange of pre-twilight. Achilles doesn’t mind, though. He just makes sure to bring a water bottle.

The city is busy, but he knows the ways through the backstreets that are quiet and safe to run on. He passes apartment after apartment building interspersed with small businesses manned by plump, grey-haired grandparents sitting at the register and sweating in the tiny spaces. The trees and building provide a decent amount of shade, which is good because as usual, he forgot his sunscreen, and he’s already tanned just slightly too pink. He passes a produce market and the station square, dotted with people drinking hot coffee, eating sweet looking pastries, and children chasing each other around the concrete platforms. The sun is just kissing the horizon as he arrives back home.

He bends over outside the door to catch his breath and finish the last of his water. He kicks off his shoes outside because he knows they’ll stink up whole house.

Inside, he quickly rinses off in the shower and changes into some clean clothes he picks up in the laundry. He heads back into his bedroom, expecting to have to wake Patroclus up, but he’s lying awake on Achilles’ bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“Hey,” Achilles says.

“Hey. Figured you went out running. Why’d you let me fall asleep?”

“Oh, come on. You needed it. You fell asleep during your own choice of movie.”

Patroclus laughs. “Sorry. It’s a good movie, I was just really tired.”

“No shit,” Achilles says, flopping down on the bed beside him.

Patroclus sighs. They sit in silence for a few moments. “I should go,” he mumbles. “I really need to study.”

Achilles hums. “It’s a week. You can get through one week.”

There’s another silence, so Achilles turns his head to face him. He’s looking at Achilles.

“Yeah,” he says. “So, your birthday…”

Achilles shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

“If it wasn’t important, we’d totally do something.”

“I know.”

“I mean, the big eighteen. You’ll be a real adult.”

Achilles snorts. “You’ve legally been an adult for a while now, so I know that doesn’t mean anything.”

Patroclus reaches out and shoves Achilles shoulder as he laughs. It’s a moment he wants to stay in forever.

But he can’t, because Patroclus sits up and grabs his stuff.

“I’ll see you for the exam on Friday. Good luck with your other one.”

Achilles shakes his head. “All my luck is bestowed to you, my friend.”

“I wouldn’t be so quick to give it away. You might need it.”

Achilles flips him off and watches as he again climbs through the window, shouting “say bye to Thetis for me!” as he disappears from view.

 

-

 

He gets through his first exam fine, as far as he can tell. Each day that passes he wants to send Patroclus texts – encouraging messages or something – but he doesn’t know what to say, and doesn’t want to be a distraction.

On Thursday, the day before the biology exam, he gets a text from Penelope.

 

**Penelope**

10:34 a.m.

hey achilles are u studying rn?

**Achilles**

10:39 a.m.

To be honest, no, I’m not. I don’t think there’s anything I can learn about biology in the next 20 or so hours that will help me now.

**Penelope**

10:40 a.m.

im not studying either but i know pat must be so uh i kind of have a problem

so i told odysseus about everything because he’s my boyfriend and he wants to come too but i was like no because three is already going to be crowded also i’m pretty sure you don’t like him

but anyway we were talking about it outside in the hall after one of our exams and we were overheard by cassandra idk if you know her but anyway she told helen’s sister who is now demanding to come or she’ll tell the police

**Achilles**

10:48

Oh, no.

**Penelope**

10:49

im really sorry but she has a point that she IS her sister after all and she just wants to see her alive as she puts it

i really don’t think helen will like it but also i do believe clytemnestra has the right to see that her own sister is okay

i hope you agree too because uhh there’s like no way she’s not coming now im sorry

**Achilles**

10:54

I guess I understand. There’s nothing we can really do about it.

**Penelope**

10:55

so your still in

**Achilles**

10:55

Yeah.

**Penelope**

10:56

thank you. you don’t know how much this all means to me. i will find a way to thank you when i can.

best of luck for tomorrow

**Achilles**

10:57

Yeah. You too.

 

-

 

On the morning of his birthday, he wakes up to the sweet smell of something cooking in the kitchen. He pads out of his bedroom, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and yawning, when he’s suddenly pulled into a hug.

“My sweet, beautiful, adult son!” his mother shouts into his ear. She pulls back and gives him a big, long, wet kiss on his cheek. He winces, but he’s smiling.

She grabs either side of his face with her hands. “Oh, look at you,” she sighs. “You look so mature. So responsible.”

Achilles snorts. “I’m neither of those things and you know it.”

She pulls him into a hug again, squeezing his body and then finally letting him go. When she pulls back and beckons him into the kitchen, there are tears in her eyes.

“Not only are you eighteen – _eighteen! –_ you also finish high school today. I can’t believe it.” She wipes at an eye. “Oh, how the time goes. I’m never going to see you again, am I? You’re going to move out and get married and have your own children by tomorrow morning.”

He laughs. “Yep, that’s it.”

She shakes her head. “Come on, eat these pancakes with me and I’ll pretend the world’s not ending.”

-

He meets Patroclus outside the exam room just after 12 for a 12:30 start.

“Happy birthday,” Patroclus says, immediately pulling him into a too-tight hug. “I am kind of saying that ironically, but seriously, later we will celebrate. You’re a legal adult!”

Achilles pulls away gently and laughs. “I know you’re trying to sound excited, but you’re scaring me a little.”

“Sorry. Sorry. I’m just dying. It’s not a big deal.”

“Get enough sleep last night?” Achilles asks.

Patroclus pulls a face. “Does it look like it?”

He’s going to ask if Penelope told him about their addition, but he’s guessing she hasn’t, yet. Right now, Patroclus is like a tense wire that with one more tug will snap and fling around and destroy everything in its wake.

“Just one more, man,” Achilles says. “You can do this.”

“Did you pack all the stuff?”

“Yep, promise. Don’t worry about it.”

A teacher starts ushering people into the room. Patroclus raises his eyebrows at Achilles, nervousness written all over his face. Achilles puts a hand on his shoulder and gently rubs.

 

-

 

At 3:30 they all line up to leave the classroom, papers on their desks. As soon as Achilles hits the fresh air outside he runs ahead to meet Patroclus.

“Hey!”

Patroclus turns when he sees him, and grins. “Hey. Hey. Hey.”

“We did it!”

“I _know._ It’s over. Did you finish question –”

“Fifteen? Fuck no. It was nonsense.”

“I tried to, but I don’t think my answer was right.”

“I’m 90 percent sure it’s their fault and no one got it right. You’re fine.”

He grins at his friend.

“So, road trip,” Patroclus says.

Achille nods. “Right. Yeah. I actually forgot.”

“Maybe it can actually be fun, right? Camping, just like all your other birthdays. Just because it’s not exactly planned doesn’t mean we can’t celebrate.”

Achilles hums. “Yeah, maybe…”

Penelope shows up beside them, also lamenting about question fifteen, and also, all the other questions on the exam.

“Okay, we should go,” Patroclus says.

“Yeah, we should. As soon as Clytemnestra’s here,” Penelope replies.

“What?”

Penelope looks at Achilles. “You didn’t tell him?”

“What - I was supposed to tell him?”

“Tell me _what_?”

Before either of them can answer, two girls appear beside them. One, he does kind of recognise – black curly hair, half hidden in a grey hoodie, must be Clytemnestra. The other one he doesn’t know.

“Cassandra’s also coming,” Clytemnestra announces nonchalantly.

“What? We didn’t agree to that,” Penelope says.

“I think we agreed to me not telling the police as long as you let me do what I want.”

“We don’t have enough tent space for five.”

“I got my own tent. It’s fine. What’s one more person to you, anyway? We can both help pay for fuel, so get your sticks out of your asses, stop gaping at me like I’m a museum attraction and let’s get in the fucking car. Which one is it?”

Achilles looks at Penelope, who shrugs. He sighs and points to his red car a few meters away.

“What just… what?” Patroclus says.

“Let’s just go,” Penelope replies, walking over to where the two girls are.

Patroclus looks at Achilles, who can only shrug.

“Happy birthday to me, I guess."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can u tell i hate madeline miller's interpretation of thetis yet?
> 
> also FINALLY!!!!!! THEY ARE ROAD TRIP


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh... i really hope you guys like this chapter. i think i do. there's truth or dare and a whole lot of feelings.  
> but a couple warnings: there's some CONSUMPTION OF ALCOHOL, which to some people from certain countries would be considered underage drinking but it's legal in greece. also, some kind of heavy stuff from the girls about having sex and not enjoying it. ALSO sorry for all my swearing. i'm australian. forgive me.

It was made clear pretty quickly that none of the girls were particularly impressed by Achilles’ car.

“How old is this hunk of junk anyway? Smells like dead grandpa in here,” Clytemnestra says, rolling down the window. Cassandra got placed in the middle seat by default, and didn’t seem thrilled about it, quietly frowning into space. Achilles could see her squirming in his rear-view mirror. Penelope was gazing forlornly out of her window. They hadn’t even left the parking lot yet. He’d let Patroclus ride in the front seat with him, because, you know, he was his only actual friend on this trip.

“Guys, can you stop? I like your car, Achilles,” Patroclus says. “It always reminds me of good times.”

Achilles gives him a small smile. He also has fond memories of the car, particularly involving Patroclus over the last year or so. As soon as Achilles had got his licences they went on as many aimless weekend drives as they could, just to see the sites and have a little freedom to themselves.

“Jesus, TMI guys. Is that why this car smells so weird? No, don’t tell me, I don’t wanna know,” Clytemnestra says.

Ignoring the back seat, he starts the car, and begins to drive.

“I’m choosing the music,” Patroclus exclaims as soon as they get going. He plugs in his iPod and scrolls through. “Should’ve made a playlist,” he mumbles to himself.

The music starts to play, and it’s very _Patroclus,_ meaning indie and something Achilles doesn’t really get, but likes fine enough anyway. He’s not a huge music fan, whereas Patroclus can talk about his favourite bands and styles and genres and instruments for hours. Really – he’s talked about it for hours before. Not that Achilles really minded. He’s probably put Patroclus through more arduous sessions of his own athletic-based rants.

Clytemnestra has been drumming her fingers on the car door ever since they started moving. Achilles can hear it right behind him.

“So,” she starts. “I know why Penelope’s so adamant to find my sister. What’s the deal with you two? You just want to be heroes or something?”

Achilles keeps his eyes fixed on the road, figuring he’ll just let Patroclus answer for them, but he stays quiet.

“Patroclus is my friend. He wanted to help me,” Penelope says. She sounds tired.

“And what about goldilocks?”

“I have the car,” Achilles mumbles.

“But why are you helping?” Clytemnestra pushes. She’s still drumming her fingers.

Achilles sighs. “Because Patroclus is _my_ friend. I’m helping him help Penelope help Helen.”

“Seriously? That’s convoluted.”

“Guess so. Can you stop drumming your fingers like that? It’s really distracting.”

It stops immediately. Achilles can feel a cool tension in the car. They’ve turned so the glaring afternoon sun is bearing down on them, and Achilles flicks down the visor. He also picks up his sunglasses from the centre console and puts them on.

“Can I ask something?” Patroclus says. There’s no answer, so he continues anyway. “Why is Cassandra here?”

“It’s complicated,” Clytemnestra says, curtly. There’s a finality to it.

Achilles turns up the music.

 

**-**

 

**9 Months Ago**

Though they haven’t always lived together, and often, it seemed, like her half-sister went through every possible obstacle to avoid any interaction or moments of shared space, Helen thought that at least once in her life she would have seen Clytemnestra cry before. Not even when they were children, and they’d get hurt, did she see her cry – she stone-faced her way through scraped knees and illness, insults and even funerals. She had at least seen their brothers cry, and she saw them even less. But this one afternoon, a Tuesday afternoon, where they were alone in their big, clean, white house, there was no ignoring the wailing coming from her sister’s room. It almost sounded like she’d been wounded. Helen had been trying to do her homework, but now, she can only focus on the sounds.

After ten minutes with no respite, she walks out into the carpeted hallway and finds herself hesitating outside the half open door. All she can see is piles of dirty clothes and an empty desk.

“Hello?” she calls gently. Her sister doesn’t seem to hear.

She pushes open the door.

Though kind of short, and on the thinner side of average, her sister had never actually seemed that small. Her big mouth and big personality often made it feel like she was the only thing in the room. But now, curled over herself on the floor at the foot of her bed, she looked small as a child.

“It’s me,” she says again, not wanting to scare her. It doesn’t seem to work, because Clytemnestra’s head shoots up in shock, her face red and wet and blotchy. Immediately, she reaches over next to her without looking and picks up a shoe, sending it flying to the door. Helen steps to the side and it hits the doorframe beside her.

“I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

“I’m _fucking fantastic,_ ” she gasps in between sobs. “Now _get out_ of my room.”

Helen just stands there. Clytemnestra sobs into her crossed forearms again, howling, animalistic.

“I just, wanted a, fucking, _god damn_ –” she starts, runs out of breath, and sobs again. Helen doesn’t move.

For a few minutes, she just cries, and Helen stands there as company. Finally, she takes some deep, shaky breaths. Still crying, but now she can talk.

“I hate him. I hate him, I hate her. I hate myself.” She groans, choking. “I hate that he made me hate myself.”

Helen’s pretty sure that the ‘he’ is Agamemnon, not totally, but close enough.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” she finally says. Clytemnestra reaches beside her, finds the other shoe, and hurls it at the door. Helen doesn’t even need to step aside this time, it misses so badly. She pauses before taking a few steps forward, and sitting down next to her sister. She takes one of her wet, red hands, and Clytemnestra immediately grabs on, squeezing so tight it hurts.

“You couldn’t understand. You don’t know what it’s like. Everyone loves you.” She spits the words out. “The only reason – I never wanted to _fuck_ him. Never in my life have I wanted that from… anyone. But you know me, I’m _poison_ – like they all said, I was fucking – I was lucky that anyone would want me. I had to do it so he’d stay. I didn’t like it, but I did it! Which makes me, this, this _nothing._ Pathetic. And then –”

She devolves into groaning again, hiccupping and almost growling. It’s anger and emotion so raw and messy and unlike anything Helen has ever seen.

She doesn’t recognise the anger, but her sister’s words jolt a familiar dread in her stomach. For a couple of years now, she’d been (all too famously around school) ‘on and off’ with Menelaus. They’d known each other a long time. He was rich, and handsome, and seemed to always get what he wanted, and just about everyone Helen knew talked about how lucky she should feel about the attention that he, and other boys, gave her. And part of being with him did make her feel powerful, and untouchable, and desired. The other part felt mostly empty. Like she didn’t have any choice. And she knew sex was supposed to be good. Sometimes, it was. Just the physicality of it. The heat of skin against skin, and having something warm and real inside her. But mostly it felt like a party where instead of being a guest, she was the entertainment.

Helen begins to squeeze her sister’s hand back, tightly, so both of their hands turn red, and then white. Then, when she thinks she might not be able to take it, Clytemnestra’s grip loosens. Her body deflates. She stops crying, immediately.

“He made me into that,” she says, her voice high, and small. “And then it wasn’t enough.”

The silence feels like a void.

“What can I do?” Helen says.

For a moment, Clytemnestra looks up, and looks into her sister’s eyes. She almost seems considering.

Then, she drops Helen’s hand.

“Nothing. I’m fine on my own.”

 

-

 

A few times, someone’s phone in the back rings, and it’s ignored instead of picked up. They drive for about an hour and a half before Achilles pulls over beside a beach.

“I just want to stretch my legs,” he says.

The beach is pretty nice. There’s a slight wind, and Achilles ties his hair up as he walks through the trees and onto the sand. He looks out over the stretch of the beach, going up to a cliff, and decides to sprint there and back. Just to feel some blood moving in his body.

He gets back and Penelope’s on the phone, Clytemnestra and Cassandra are having a conversation by a tree, and Patroclus is leaning on the car door. Achilles grabs his drink bottle from the glove box and drinks the whole thing, walks over to a drinking fountain and fills it up again.

Patroclus is eyeing the bottle as he walks back over.

“You’ve just made me realise I forgot a water bottle. I’ll need to buy a plastic one when we stop at the next store.”

“Are you thirsty?” Achilles says, already holding his bottle out.

“Oh, no. It’s fine.”

“Come on. It’s a hot day, you have to stay hydrated,” he says. “Are you afraid of my mouth or something? I’m not sick.”

Patroclus’s eyes dart to Achilles’ mouth, and then back up again. “I know.”

He shoves the bottle towards him again. Sighing, Patroclus takes it, and drinks. Achilles watched his throat move. The way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

“Thanks.” He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Achilles swallows, screwing the top back on too tightly. “S’fine.”

Penelope comes over at that moment, hanging up her phone and offering a tight smile.

“Who was that?” Patroclus asks.

She shrugs. “Odysseus.”

Patroclus raises an eyebrow.

“It’s fine,” she says. “Come on, let’s go.”

Once they’re all back in the car, Patroclus starts looking on his phone for a place they can stop and eat dinner that’s not too far from a campsite.

“Achilles shouldn’t drive that much today. We had exams, we’re tired,” he says.

“I can drive,” Clytemnestra chimes in, and Achilles immediately rejects that idea.

The rest of the ride to the small town they decided on is peaceful. The sky turns a reddish orange as the sun begins to set. Surprisingly, Cassandra sings and hums along to some of the songs Patroclus plays, which seems to make him very happy. Achilles keeps the windows down and lets the wind blow through his hair.

They pull up beside the restaurant Patroclus found on his phone. It’s tiny, and there aren’t many people inside – just an old couple and a group of four men, smoking by the window. They walk inside and a teenager greets them, smiling and blushing as she ushers them to a table. As they sit, Clytemnestra raises her eyebrows and looks back and forth between Achilles and Patroclus.

“I think someone’s fallen in love with both of you,” she says. “Do you think we’re the only people under forty she’s ever seen come in here?”

Cassandra’s already flipping through the menu. “I want fish,” she says, decidedly.

“Should we share some stuff?” Patroclus says.

They all agree on sharing bread and dips, and ordering their own main meals.

The food is amazing. Achilles shares a pizza and a salad with Patroclus, and even the salad is good, which is quite the feat.

“Seriously,” Clytemnestra says, pulling the waitress in as she walks past, “Whoever’s doing the cooking back there, tell them I’m ready to marry them, right now.”

The girl laughs awkwardly. “My parents?”

“Yes,” she groans. “Or, can they adopt me? Do you want a new sister?”

“I already have plenty, but thank you,” the girl says, bowing her head as she walks away. Before she can go back into the kitchen, Patroclus runs over to her, talking to her about something Achilles can’t hear.

“Woah,” Penelope says. “What? Is he hitting on her or something?”

“I hope not. She looks young,” Clytemnestra says. Her eyes are narrowing.

Achilles tries not to stare. What is he doing? Clytemnestra’s right, she looks maybe three years younger than they are. Plus, when he really thinks about it, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Patroclus flirt with anyone. Ever.

He comes back over and sits down, taking a moment to notice that all four of them are staring at him, in silence.

“Were you hitting on her?” Clytemnestra accuses.

Patroclus looks shocked. “What? No! She’s, like, a baby! What?”

Achilles body relaxes. He didn’t realise how tense it was.

“What were you doing, then?” Penelope asks, head titled to the side.

“Just,” Patroclus says, reaching back and rubbing the back of his neck. “Nothing, I was just, telling her to tell her parents they did a great job. With the cooking.”

“Oh,” Penelope says. “That’s sweet.”

They finish off the food, all complaining they feel too full to eat anymore, then eat some more. After they’re truly done, the girl cleans all their food away.

“I’ve never been out here, this way,” Cassandra says, staring out the window onto the empty road. There’s a mountain behind the town, tall and green. “I’ve never really even been out of the city.”

“So you haven’t camped before?” Patroclus asks. She shakes her head.

“Oh, how exciting,” Penelope says. “Your first expedition into the great outdoors.”

Clytemnestra rolls her eyes. “Don’t listen to them. Camping is bullshit. You sleep on the hard ground and there are bugs everywhere and in the mornings the tents get so hot you wake up cooked.”

Cassandra hums. “But it might be really beautiful, under the stars.”

“It is,” Patroclus says. “Achilles and I go camping all the time. Especially on his birthday. Which… is today, by the way.”

Achilles glances at Patroclus, frowning. He wasn’t planning on letting the others in on that fact.

“Oh, it’s your birthday?” Penelope asks. She goes from shocked, to a little sad. “I’m so sorry! If I’d known… God, you’ve been doing exams and driving all day on your birthday. That’s terrible.”

Achilles sighs. “It’s fine, really. I had breakfast with my mother, and then got to eat here, so that was good. That’s enough.”

“But you’re eighteen now, right?” Clytemnestra says. “You can drink. You’re an adult or whatever. We should probably be celebrating that.”

“It’s fine. Seriously, I don’t mind.”

For Patroclus’s eighteenth birthday, they had just stayed up all night watching movies. Neither of them ever wanted to party or anything like that.

From the corner of his eye, he notices the waitress come out of the kitchen, holding something glowing in her hands. He locks eyes with Patroclus.

“No,” he says.

Patroclus just grins, and begins to sing _Happy Birthday._ Everyone joins in, even the men still smoking by the window. The girl lays a small pastry out in front of Achilles with a single candle in it, which he blows out once they’re done singing.

“Sorry, we didn’t have any cake,” she says.

He laughs. His face is warm, embarrassed from all the attention. “It’s fine. Thank you.”

Once they pay and leave a generous tip, waving the waitress goodbye and still singing the praises of her parents’ cooking, they make their way out into the quiet dusk of the street. The sun is almost gone, and there’s a bluish light blanketing the town.

“C’mon, we have to drive to the campsite before it’s dark.” The tents are easy to set up, just pop-ups, but it’s still not the best thing to attempt without light. They pile back into the car and drive out of the small town until it’s swallowed by the horizon behind them.

They have to drive a little while through some trees until they begin passing tents and small campfires. Pulling up somewhere quiet, they get out while it’s still light enough to set up. Clytemnestra and Achilles decide to swap tents, because hers is a two-person and his is a four-person.

“It’s not personal,” she says, “I just don’t trust men.”

It’s only a few minutes of set up for the boys. The girls take their time, especially because Clytemnestra teases Cassandra about never having set up a camp before, saying ‘ _no, let her do it, let her figure it out!’_ which seems to tire Penelope out pretty quickly.

“You want to get some wood for a campfire?” she asks Achilles and Patroclus, who nod and head off to the side. They start to collect the fallen sticks in silence. Patroclus seems almost solemn as he kicks at leaves.

“You okay?” Achilles asks.

“Hm? Oh, yeah. Sorry. I’m fine.”

Achilles jabs him with one of the sticks in the arm. “Don’t bullshit me, dude.”

Patroclus sighs. “I’m still thinking about the exams, I guess.”

“It’s out of our hands now. What’s done is done.”

“I know that, I just. I don’t have a plan, for if I fail. If I didn’t ace it. I won’t get scholarships, I won’t get to move away. I’ll be stuck here forever.”

Achilles swallows down the words that immediately rise in his throat. _What’s so bad about staying here?_ It would be thoughtless. Achilles has a family who loves him. And no real big dreams about saving people.

“You really won’t. If you don’t do amazing, you’ll still have done good. I know that. You might not be able to get into the best place, but you’ll get scholarships somewhere.”

Patroclus grunts. Then, he seems to hit something, stumbles, and falls over. “Fuck,” he mutters. Achilles drops his sticks in a pile, and jumps over to sit beside him.

“Woah, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just scraped my knee.”

Patroclus bends his leg. There’s a trail of blood beginning to drip down his shin.

“Shit. Did we bring any first aid?”

Patroclus shrugs. “I didn’t. Maybe Penelope did.”

“I’ll go see if she has anything,” Achilles says. He makes to get up and leave, but Patroclus tugs on his arm.

“I can still walk, idiot.”

Achilles frowns. “I know. But you don’t have to. I can go.”

Patroclus’s grip tightens on his arm. He looks up and meets Achilles’ eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Achilles murmurs. Patroclus’s eyes are wide, shining.

“No matter where I go,” he says, “you’re not going to be there.”

Achilles doesn’t move. It’s exactly what he’s been thinking about for weeks, maybe months, but hasn’t said out loud. Neither of them have said anything about it. Achilles has been avoiding it, like maybe, if he didn’t say it out loud, it wouldn’t be real. Wouldn’t actually happen.

“I know,” he finally says, slowly. “But that doesn’t mean we’ll stop being friends. I’ll always be there. On the other side of the phone.”

Patroclus ducks his head at this. He pushes his hand to his forehead and groans.

“We both know that’s not the same. That no one honestly stays in touch after high school. Before you know it,” he rolls his head back and rubs his eyes. “We’ll just be strangers. Like, in five years, I’ll come back to town, and I’ll say, ‘hey, let’s meet up for coffee,’ and you’ll say ‘sure’, but then we won’t even get around to it. Or we will, and it’ll be awkward, and we won’t know each other, and you’ll probably have married some sweet, pretty girl, and have a real job and like, a fucking baby on the way or something, and I’ll still be a disaster, scraping my way through school, and,”

“Hey. Hey, stop. Shut up.” Achilles grabs at Patroclus’ arm now, his bicep, which is somehow firm and soft at the same time. “I love you, okay?” he says, embarrassed at how his voice cracks on the words. “And, I think, love doesn’t go away. I’m not going to go off, and get married and have a kid or whatever without you. We can still be there for each other, just… not physically, for a while. It doesn’t change a thing.”

Patroclus looks at him. The words, as Achilles said them, were just as much an attempt to reassure himself as they were to reassure his best friend. He might not fully believe them, but he wants to. He needs to.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Patroclus finally says. He swallows, and Achilles watches his throat bob, again. “I love you too,” he says, a near-whisper.

For some reason, Achilles can feel his heart beating in his throat. He feels light-headed.

“I’m stupid for freaking out. I know it’s my fault, anyway.”

“Shut up. That’s not true,” Achilles says. He feels hot and cold all at once. Is his face burning up?

He’s shocked into jumping when he hears a voice not far behind them. “Hey, you guys? Where are you? Have you been eaten by a wolf? Or some woods cannibal?... Please tell me it’s not a woods cannibal.”

It’s Penelope. Achilles stands up and calls back out to her. “We’re here. Patroclus just tripped and hurt his leg.”

Penelope appears between the trees, peering over to look. “Is it bad?”

Patroclus gets up. “It’s fine. Just a little blood.”

“Come on back, I have a first aid kit.”

Achilles gives Patroclus a look, that yeah, at least someone here is sensible. Well, kind of. She is also leading a cross-country crusade to find her friend who is being looked for by the police.

Achilles gathers up the wood they collected and carries it back to camp himself. His heart is still beating a little erratically after their talk.  Penelope gets out her first aid kit, and Achilles starts the fire with his matches. Because he brought some things, at least.

Cassandra and Clytemnestra seemed to have finally been able to put up the tent, and again, are having a hushed conversation to the side. Achilles finds himself wondering what it is they talk about, which is a surprise to him, since usually he doesn’t care about people from school other than Patroclus. The two of them have a strange vibe when they’re together. He can’t tell if they’re really close friends, or if they kind of hate each other. Or maybe a mixture of both. He’s not sure he wants to know.

It’s still a fairly warm night, but the fire adds a glow to the area that, in Achilles opinion, is a quintessential element of a good camping experience. He sits himself in front of it, watching as the flames start to crackle and spit. After Patroclus and Penelope are done, they come and sit beside him. Cassandra and Clytemnestra wander over as well.

“Ah,” Penelope sighs as she sits. “This is nice.”

Patroclus hums in agreement, grabbing a stick and poking at the fire.

“Did anyone bring anything to drink?” Clytemnestra asks. “I feel like, it’s your eighteenth birthday, man. We should be drinking.”

“Oh, yeah!” Patroclus says, shooting up. “I did!”

“What?” Achilles starts, but he’s already making his way to the car. Achilles has never had anything to drink before. When Patroclus turned eighteen, and it was legal, he offered to join in if he wanted to, but Patroclus said he was fine. So, Achilles had just assumed he wasn’t interested in drinking.

Clytemnestra is clapping as Patroclus returns to the fire. “Yes,” she says. “This is good.”

Patroclus has some beer. He offers them around, and all the girls take one.

“You don’t have to drink,” he says, when he offers one to Achilles. “I just thought it might be, like, a milestone thing. But I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything.”

Achilles just shrugs and takes the bottle.

“Ooh, warm. Awesome,” Clytemnestra says, making a face that communicates the opposite sentiment.

Achilles takes a drink, and it’s pretty gross, like he’s always imagined. But not unbearable. The warmth of it doesn’t help.

“Tastes disappointing?” Cassandra asks him, tilting her head slowly to the side. “Welcome to adulthood.”

Clytemnestra bursts out laughing at this. Penelope snorts, and takes another swig of her drink.

“I know Patroclus is going the whole academic path,” she says, “but what about you? What are your plans for next year?”

Achilles sighs into the rim of his bottle. “Good question. I was thinking about going to university locally, getting an athletics scholarship, maybe. But I don’t really have any interest in studying. I was thinking maybe looking around for a job, like, construction or something.” He shrugs. “Save a little money while I work it out.”

Penelope nods at this thoughtfully. “Sure. You don’t have to have it figured out. I certainly don’t.”

Clytemnestra blows a raspberry at this. “Bull- _shit._ You are gonna be a trophy wife of that boy of yours. Squeeze out a dozen kids.”

Penelope is silent for a long moment. “You don’t know me.”

“Sure I do. Of course I do. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, right? I’m just saying that’s who you are.”

All of them sit in silence now. Penelope is looking at her hands.

“Love is a wonderful thing,” Cassandra chimes in. Her voice is soft, and the dark curls of her hair are blowing gently in the evening wind. “I think it’s beautiful that you’ve met someone you feel you could be with forever. I think if that’s what is important to you, then it’s wonderful, and you should feel no shame in being happy.”

Penelope offers her a smile. “I am,” she says. “Happy.”

“Then you’re doing better than her,” Cassandra says, gesturing to Clytemnestra, who elbows her in the side.

“To not knowing what the fuck we’re doing,” Clytemnestra says, raising her bottle. The rest of them join in.

“Cheers.”

Achilles drinks. He watches Patroclus as he does. Before he knows it, the contents of the whole bottle is gone. Somehow, he ends up with another one.

His head starts to feel fuzzy after a little while. He can’t stop thinking about reaching over and brushing the hair out of Patroclus’s face.

“Let’s play truth or dare,” Penelope says, her face lighting up.

Achilles groans, but Patroclus grins. Clytemnestra shrugs and says, “fuck it, why not,” and Cassandra giggles behind the neck of her bottle.

“Okay, okay. I’m first,” Penelope announces. “Patroclus.”

“Uhhh. Truth?”

She taps her finger on her lips. “Have you ever kissed anyone here?”

Patroclus looks taken aback. “No?” he asks, like he’s confused. Penelope raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, then. Your turn.”

Patroclus looks around the circle, then locks his eyes on Achilles. He just raises his eyebrows.

“Dare, I guess,” he says. “You already know all my truths.”

“Finish that bottle!” Patroclus says, and he does. Just knocks it back.

Probably a bad idea.

They go around for a while. Has Cassandra ever cheated on a test? (No.) Has Patroclus ever had a crush on a teacher? (Kind of.) Clytemnestra is dared to ask someone at a nearby campsite for a pair of underwear (she doesn’t even hesitate, but is unsuccessful). Has Penelope ever had sex in public? ( _NO!)_ Has Achilles? (He has to explain, very shamefacedly, that technically the answer is yes – it was a public bathroom).

“Fuck! Didn’t know you were so nasty,” Clytemnestra says, laughing.

“There was no one around. I swear. Middle of nowhere,” he says. Even he can hear the slurring in his voice. “She was very… excited by adventure.”

There are groans all around. Patroclus drags his hand down his face. He knows some stuff about what Achilles has done with his past two girlfriends, but they never got super into specifics. It felt wrong. He knew most friends probably talked about it together, but it was just too uncomfortable, most of the time.

“It wasn’t the best time, if that makes it any better,” he mumbles.

“That makes it very _sad,_ dude,” Clytemnestra says.

He laughs, glancing over at Patroclus, who is smiling vacantly and looking off into the trees.

Achilles says his name.

“Yeah? Oh, truth.”

It’s something he’s wanted to know for a while. See, they tell each other a lot of things. But not everything. Like with Achilles exes, is sometimes awkward. It’s possible it’s happened and he just hasn’t told him, but it’s also possible that –

“Have you ever kissed anyone? At all?”

There’s a silence. He shrugs. “Nope.”

“Really?” Clytemnestra and Penelope ask in unison.

Penelope shakes her head. “No one?”

“No one.”

“It’s not that – you know, that’s fine. But… I thought, you know,” she says, exasperated. “You’re a handsome young man!”

Patroclus laughs. “Thanks, mum.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah. And thanks. It’s not really… I just haven’t ever met someone who I like and who likes me back enough to wanna do that. I don’t want to do it with just anyone to, I don’t know. Get it out of the way. What’s the point of that?”

“So that when you _do_ kiss the person you want to kiss, you’re not totally shit at it,” Clytemnestra says.

Penelope waves her hand at that. “Don’t listen to her. If the girl you finally kiss is worth it, and really likes you too, it won’t matter! She won’t care.”

Patroclus hugs his knees to his chest. “I guess.”

Achilles can’t stop looking at him. What he says does make sense, there’s no point in kissing someone just for the sake of it. Right? But, just the thought that nobody, no one in the whole world, had ever kissed him – it seems like a cosmic mistake.

“Sometimes I do wonder, though,” Patroclus says. “What if I’m being an idiot, waiting to meet ‘the one’ or whatever? What if the only way to work it out is to just try? Like the saying. You have to kiss a few frogs before you find the prince.”

Penelope hums thoughtfully. “I’ll be honest. I started dating Odysseus when we were fourteen, and when we first kissed, it was terrible. Just, like, wet and unpleasant. Nothing magic about it. Then, somewhere along the way, we figured it out and it just… turned really good.”

Patroclus starts to jiggle his foot. Penelope’s words kind of ring true, to Achilles. The first few times he’d kissed Deidamia he hadn’t really felt anything.

“Don’t get it in your head that that’s the only way it goes, though,” Clytemnestra says. “I kissed and slept with Agamemnon for years before I realised I would never be attracted to him. Ever.”

There’s a long silence, save for the chirping of crickets and crackling of the fire. Clytemnestra stands up and stretches out her body, yawning as she does. “I think I’m going to sleep now.”

“Me too,” says Penelope, echoing her yawn. The two girls pad over to their tent and pile inside. Cassandra stands up, also to head over to the tent, but stops at Patroclus, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“There’s nothing wrong with waiting until you find the right person,” she says, her voice low. “When it’s right, it’s like your body is the universe, and all the stars are being rearranged to finally fit in the right places.”

She leans over and places a kiss to the top of his head, and walks away.

Patroclus looks up at Achilles, almost shyly. “You tired too?”

“Yeah,” he says. The alcohol has made his body heavy and his brain fuzzy. “We should sleep.”

They crawl into their tent. Achilles can’t be bothered to change properly, so he just pulls off his shirt, leaving on his shorts from the day. Patroclus does the same. Even in the dark, Achilles can make out the dark lines on his chest, the dusting of hair crawling down to the top of his shorts. He flops down next to Achilles, who is already lying on top of his sleeping bag. It’s far too hot to actually get inside. They lie, facing each other. Patroclus’s big eyes droop with tiredness.

“Can’t believe you’ve really never kissed anyone,” Achilles murmurs.

“You knew that already,” Patroclus says.

Achilles shakes his head, his cheek rubbing the clothes he's piled up as a pillow. “Couldn’t believe it.”

He blinks. “Why?”

“Like Penelope said.”

Patroclus sighs. “Do you think I’m, like. Not cool, or something? Never had a girlfriend, never been kissed.”

Achilles’s bleary mind switches on at these words. What is he talking about? Achilles would never think about him that way. Patroclus is maybe - no, he is the most attractive person Achilles knows. Not cool? If either of them are not cool, it's Achilles. Patroclus is the one with the bright future, the normal social life, the weird but charming taste in bands, the kindest soul. He's the only person in the world who can really make Achilles laugh. It wouldn't even matter if he wasn't cool, which he is. He's just Patroclus. He's just the best thing Achilles has even known.

But he can't seem to formulate the proper sentence to articulate this, so instead, he comes out with: “What?”

Patroclus runs his hands through his unruly dark hair, sighing again. “I know, I’m not like you, I don’t have all this – gravitational pull. It’s not as easy as it –”

Achilles doesn’t let him finish the sentence. He’s already leaning in, and pressing his mouth to Patroclus’s. It shuts him up immediately, and he doesn’t pull away, or even flinch. Part of his brain is telling him this is a bad idea, but the other part, the warm, tipsy, impulsive part is screaming that this is the best thing he could possibly be doing right now.

Patroclus’s lips are soft, and dry, and Achilles doesn’t open his mouth, as much as he wants to. He can feel that he’s being kissed back, and he holds back a groan.

The sensible part of his brain makes him pull away.

His face is hot, and he feels his stomach turn as Patroclus opens his eyes.

“Sorry,” he murmurs.

Patroclus just blinks at him, beautiful, brown eyes open wide.

Achilles bites his lip. “I just… it’s a… cosmic mistake. That no one’s ever done that.” He can feel his body sinking, falling into tiredness. He can only hear the swishing of the wind in the trees, the soft night sounds. His body is alight, a warmth set off from deep inside his chest. He reaches out and holds Patroclus's arm, not sure what he's trying to communicate.

“It’s okay,” he thinks he hears Patroclus say. He feels his fingers against his cheek.

Then, he’s asleep.

 

 

He dreams they’re together.

It’s nothing special. In fact, it’s a very normal dream, as far as dreams go. There’s some urgent need for them to be buying oranges at the supermarket. He keeps getting lost in the isles. Finally, when he finds the oranges, Patroclus is already there, and he’s eating one of them. Achilles tells him that he can’t just eat an orange there, before he pays for it, which makes Patroclus laugh, and kiss him with his sweet mouth. It’s a proper kiss this time. Open mouthed and perfect.

Like all the stars are being rearranged.


	4. Chapter 4

It’s hot when Achilles wakes up. Really hot. He tries to swallow and his throat sticks. When he lifts his legs from the sleeping bag, he can feel how much he’s sweated throughout the night. The sun is shining through the roof of the tent.

And fuck, he has got to be having the worst headache of his life.

Reaching over to his bag, he feels around for his water bottle and downs the whole thing. Then, he feels nauseous, and collapses back onto the sleeping bag. Finally, he registers that he’s alone in the tent. And his body stiffens as he remembers last night.

Last night. Was that a dream? There was drinking, talking. Dreams. Did – was –

He touches his own cheek. Bites his lip.

Did he kiss Patroclus last night?

His eyes flutter shut. It’s too real. The smell of earth, the heat of his friend’s skin. That wasn’t a dream. The other thing was, though. His stomach flutters as he remembers. Breathing becomes difficult.

There are just too many feelings, all at once. A giddiness, embarrassment, shame, confusion – so much confusion. He can’t even parse what he’s thinking. What he feels right now. It’s all too much.

Then, he looks over to the empty space where Patroclus should be, and swallows. Did he leave because of last night? Is he mad?

Oh god. Achilles groans. It was right after Patroclus had said all that stuff about – about wanting to kiss the right person. Then, he’d gone and done the stupidest fucking thing in the world and just kissed him, without thinking, without considering. He must think Achilles is some kind of monster.

His breathing starts to get very shallow, and his head his pounding, screaming. He still feels both dehydrated, and nauseated from too much water, too quickly. He runs his hand through his sweat-damp hair, feeling that it’s become tangled throughout the night. Trying only to focus on running his hand through to smooth the knots, Achilles steadies his breathing.

Then he remembers the kiss – and what he said –

And he’s bent over himself, holding his knees so tight his fingernails dig into the skin. What has he done? What was he _thinking_?

There’s a rustling behind him. A zip, unzipping.

“Hey,” he hears Patroclus’s voice.

Slowly, he pulls himself up, taking a deep breath and trying to stay steady. He turns his body around, and sees that Patroclus is all dressed, smiling. Looking totally normal.

“Good morning. Didn’t want to wake you, but I figured we should probably get going soon.” Patroclus holds up some unknown bar-shaped substance. “Breakfast?”

He nods, takes the bar from Patroclus’s hand. It’s something that says PROTEIN! in all caps, red lettering, a picture of a muscular arm to the side. He doesn’t feel much like eating. Still nauseous, from the water, and from drinking last night. But Patroclus is climbing into the tent and sitting next to him, so he peels back the wrapper just to have something to do with his hands.

“Are you feeling okay? I had a headache when I woke up.”

“I feel like someone’s trying to squeeze my brain dry,” Achilles says. Patroclus snorts.

“I have some painkillers. You gotta eat that, though, because I don’t think you’re supposed to take them on an empty stomach. Also, you’ll feel better if you eat. We can probably stop somewhere for something a little more substantial, because the girls also feel like shit.”

He bites the chocolate covered bar (though, it’s not really chocolate, because all chocolate protein bars seem to actually just be covered in this watery, sweet, weird second-cousin-of-chocolate substance) and scrunches up his nose. After he swallows, he holds out his hand. Patroclus puts two pills there.

Achilles can’t quite work out what’s happening between them. How Patroclus is looking at him. He doesn’t seem angry, and that’s good. A huge relief. But he could just be hiding his anger, because Achilles is doing him a favour, taking this trip. Or because it was his birthday. He doesn’t know. All he knows is Patroclus is acting normal, more or less. Does he not remember it? He didn’t drink _that_ much. Right? God, does that mean Achilles will have to tell him?

“So. Thanks for kissing me, last night,” Patroclus says, and Achilles chokes on the pills.

He takes a few moments to compose himself. “Fuck.” he clears his throat. “I’m so sorry about that, man. I didn’t mean – if I had been thinking at all, I never would have,” he sighs, wipes sweat from his forehead.

 “Woah, it’s okay. You were super drunk. I kind of was, too. I totally get why you did it.”

Achilles looks up at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You thought you were being nice. It was, kind of, if a little… uh, misguided?”

“Jesus. You can say that again.” Achilles laughs. “Seriously, I can’t believe I did that, right after you’d said all that stuff about how you wanted it to be with the right person. That was really shitty of me. I just think, well. I wasn’t thinking, and I just felt that – I don’t even know.”

“Calm down. I get it. It’s fine.” Patroclus laughs, and puts his hand on Achilles’ shoulder. “I wasn’t, like, saving myself for marriage or whatever. I just didn’t see the point of going out of my way to kiss someone for the sake of it.”

“Yeah, and then I went and just kissed you for the sake of it!”

“ _Dude._ It’s seriously okay.”

“It’s seriously _not_!”

Patroclus lets out a frustrated huff. “It’s – look, okay, hold on,” and then, so quickly Achilles couldn’t have possibly prepared for it, Patroclus leans in and kisses Achilles. It’s quick. Just a moment. The same soft, dry, lips. Just a little pressure. Achilles doesn’t even have time to close his eyes, as much as he finds that he wants to.

“Now we’re even,” Patroclus says, smiling, as he pulls away.

God. Oh, fuck.

Achilles can only blink, swallow, and – just barely – breathe.

“Okay? Now get changed and we’ll pack up the tents.” Patroclus gets up and leaves the tent, zipping it closed behind him.

Fuck. _Fuck._

Achilles reaches up and touches his mouth.

His brain is trying very hard to catch up with his body. And vice-versa. His main thoughts at the moment are; _How will I live without doing that again, every day, for the rest of my life?_ and also, primarily, _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

God. How has it taken this long for him to realise that he’s in love with Patroclus?

Just two stupid chaste kisses, one of them while drunk. And then, another one in a dream, and he can’t stop the hurricane that’s currently happening in his head.

First of all, he _can’t_ be in love with Patroclus. Patroclus is his _best friend._ For many years, now. It doesn’t make any sense. Secondly, Patroclus doesn’t like guys. And, even if he did, the chances of him also liking Achilles back are infinitesimal. And, finally, _Achilles_ doesn’t even like guys.

Right?

… _Right?_

Shit. Shit.

“Fuck,” Achilles says aloud.

Frantically, he throws on his favourite t-shirt. It’s a soft red, well worn. He changes his underwear, shorts, and pretends to be thinking about anything other than the revelation that not only is he at least a little bit gay, but also a lot in love with his best friend.

He rolls up the two sleeping bags and grabs his backpack. Takes a deep, dizzying breath, and emerges from the tent, stumbling a little at the light.

Oh, it is just too bright.

Cassandra smiles at him, waves. He just continues to grimace. Penelope and Patroclus are talking by the car, and Achilles blinks his way. It’s partially the light and god, partially that he can’t fucking look at him anymore without imagining what it would be like to stick his tongue in his mouth. His hair is so beautiful, even after sleeping in a goddamn tent. All over the place.

He rubs his eyes and trudges over to the car. Dumps the stuff in the back.

“Wow. You look… like you had a lot to drink last night,” Penelope says. He grunts.

“I’ll help you pack the tent up,” Patroclus offers. They go over and pull out the poles and the dismantle the little popup, the place where last night and this morning Achilles and Patroclus had kissed each other. He lets Patroclus finish it up and walks over to a tap to brush his teeth.

It’s a nice morning, he can almost admit. Not cold, but not too warm, yet. The sun has yet to rise enough that its heat is beating down on them. It’s just brightly peeking over the trees, and tearing Achilles’ vision apart. He drinks more water, slower this time. His stomach rumbles and he takes another bite of the gross protein bar.

Patroclus and Penelope pile the last of their belongings into the car. Clytemnestra walks past him, clapping him on the back. He groans.

“Aw. Baby’s first hangover. Come on, you didn’t have that much.” She raises an eyebrow. “You okay to drive?”

“Think so. I just… once these painkillers kick in, I should be alive again.”

“Good. I kinda don’t want you killing all of us in a firey crash.”

Achilles flips her off. She laughs, and heads for the car.

He slides into the front seat, and Patroclus takes his place beside him. He’s already got his old, cracked iPod out and is plugging it into the radio, scrolling through thousands of songs. The doors close shut behind him.

“All good?” Achilles asks, pulling on his sunglasses. There’s an affirmative chorus. He stifles a yawn. Coffee would be great right about now.

“There’s a little café not too far from here. We should stop there,” Patroclus says, reading his mind.

“Fuck, yes. I would kill you all right now for a cup of coffee,” Clytemnestra groans. Achilles finds himself more or less agreeing.

As they pull out onto the dirt road, they pass other campers. Mostly families, some groups of adult hikers, all preparing for their days. Cooking beside the tents. Lying in hammocks. It reminds Achilles that they’re not just out here to fuck around and just have a fun camping trip. Because, weirdly enough, he’s growing to enjoy the girls’ company quite a bit. And, also, the thought of Patroclus leaving soon enough is becoming even worse.

Or maybe it’s a good thing. Maybe, if they don’t see each other except for every summer, Achilles will get over these ridiculous new feelings. He’ll go back to seeing Patroclus as just a best friend.

Although, as he grips his hands a little tighter on the steering wheel and pulls out onto the main road, he wonders if he didn’t always feel this way.

 

-

 

She’s just out buying groceries when her knees buckle in the cereal aisle. The basket of fruits and vegetables crash, tip over, and spill out over the smooth, white floor. This feeling in the back of her neck – she’s felt it before. Her vision is going hazy. Sounds muffle. She lowers herself to the ground, lying sideways on the cool ground, facing a bunch of nearly-ripe bananas. Helen’s vision goes black.

“…you hear me? Sweetheart, can you hear me?”

Her eyes have been open this whole time, but only now does her hearing and vision start to return. She can only see things partially, obscured by blotchy black spots. There’s an older woman standing above her. Black hair, lined with grey streaks. The picture of concern. All Helen wants to do is say _I’m fine, I’m just fine,_ and be left alone. God, why did it have to happen in public? She hates fainting in public.

“…call and ambulance…”

“No,” Helen says, finally able to force the words out of her, though it takes a tremendous effort. “No, please.”

The ringing in her ears is getting louder, but she’s able to hear the world around her more now. Slowly, she sits herself up against the boxes of cereal. Wipes her forehead. The woman is leaning down and, oh, god, there are more people surrounding her now.

“Please,” she makes out. “This happens… often. I’m really fine. Don’t call an ambulance. I just, have my period, or something. I’m anaemic.”

Her stress is making her a little dizzier, and also willing to say anything to get these people to leave her alone. She knows she has to wait a few minutes to regain her composure before she’ll be able to walk again.

She looks up at the small crowd of people, and smiles. Flutters her eyelids.

“Thank you all so much for you concern, but I’m just fine.”

A guy in his twenties, wearing the store’s uniform, looks down at her and gives her a reassuring smile. “Even so, I’ve called an ambulance. They should be on their way.”

Her heart nearly stops in her chest.

She swallows. Can’t be taken to the hospital. What if they ask questions? Call the police? She feels faint again, but this time, she knows she has to do something.

“Sorry, I just have to go to the bathroom,” she says. Pushing herself up on shaky legs, the older woman grabs her arm. “Thank you. I’m okay, though, please.”

The woman won’t let go of her arm.

“Please,” Helen repeats, tugging her arm towards her. The woman pulls back. Looks shocked.

Helen just turns and walks to the back of the store.

Thank god, as she’s getting closer, she can see there’s a doorway. She starts to half-run, as fast as she can. Looks behind her – thank god, no one has followed yet. She pushes the exit bar down and runs out the door. Heads out to the back alley behind the store. Keeps going, trying to compose herself, when she makes her way out onto the main street.

She just has to make it home.

 

-

 

The food they eat for breakfast isn’t even that good, and yet, it’s the best thing in the whole world. Achilles has three cups of coffee. When they finish, he feels alive again.

“How long will we be driving today?” he asks.

“Hmm,” Penelope says. “How about we just say, as long as you can drive? I don’t want you to get too tired. We’re not really in a huge rush. Helen said she was okay, after all. I just want… to check in on her, I guess.”

“Yeah. Not in any particular rush to box my sister over the ears. I can do that any time, any day,” Clytemnestra adds.

Cassandra places her hand on Clytemnestra’s arm. “Be kind.”

Clytemnestra sticks out her tongue and pulls on her eyelid with her finger.

They get back in the car, ready to go, when there’s a knocking on Achilles’ window. He looks up. There’s a gasp from the backseat.

Odysseus gives a little wave and a smile.

Penelope’s door flies open, and Achilles turns his head to see her shoot out of the car without closing the door behind her. She comes around the front and Achilles sees how angry she looks.

“What – what on _earth_ are you doing here?”

Achilles gets out of the car, and the rest follow.

“Oh, fuck no,” Clytemnestra says.

Walking toward them are Agamemnon and Menelaus. Achilles looks back toward Clytemnestra, who looks completely stunned in place. Cassandra is holding onto her arm.

“Look at this. What on earth are you five doing out here?” Agamemnon says.

Clytemnestra walks towards him. Doesn’t hesitate a moment before slapping him in the face.

“You fucking followed us here?!” she says. Pushes his chest. “What is _wrong_ with you?”

There’s so much going on at once, Achilles doesn’t know what to do. He looks at Patroclus, who looks equally stunned. Penelope is running her hands through her hair, and Odysseus reaches out to touch her, but she pushes him away.

“Is she right? You followed us?” She says, breathlessly.

Odysseus sighs. “I was worried about you.”

“What – I’m – I’m an adult, Odysseus! For god’s sake! And you brought –”

“You have to go home. Now,” Clytemnestra says through gritted teeth.

Menelaus shakes his head. “I’m not going anywhere until you all tell me where my girlfriend is.”

“And I’m not going anywhere until you come home with me,” Agamemnon says, trying to take Clytemnestra’s hand in his own. She pushes it away, steps back.

“What the fuck. What the fuck,” she says.

Achilles looks at Patroclus again. Raises his eyebrows. Patroclus gives him an _I don’t know_ look, raising his shoulders slightly.

Cassandra steps forward, between Clytemnestra and the two boys. When she speaks, her voice is calm. Completely composed.

“You’ve clearly made a mistake. We’re out here to have a camping trip together. I’m sorry to say, Menelaus, we don’t know where Helen is. I hate to think you got your hopes up. And, Agamemnon, Clytemnestra should not have to tell you again that she is not interested in your affections. I’m sorry you’ve made the trip, but all of you really should go home now. You’re not wanted here.”

There’s a beat. Then, Agamemnon laughs.

“Bullshit,” he snarls. “That’s all total bullshit.”

Penelope leans in to Odysseus to whisper in his ear. He shakes his head.

“The only bullshit… is you!” Clytemnestra stammers out, and only now Achilles can see the trembling of her lip, the tremor in her voice. She’s angry. He should probably do something to stop all of this.

“I know you know where she is,” Menelaus says. “Why the fuck else would the five of you be here together?”

Achilles swallows. Glances towards Patroclus. Then he takes a step forwards.

“Because we’re friends.”

Menelaus makes a face. “Fuck off, no you’re not. You expect me to believe that? You’re not friends with anyone but your boyfriend over there.”

Achilles swallows. Clenches his fists.

“No, he is our friend,” Penelope says. “And we’re all just out here trying to have a nice time. To forget all the horrible stuff going on at home with Helen. We were _trying_ to distract ourselves, and you just come out here and – ruin everything, for no reason. It’s creepy. Seriously, why shouldn’t we call the police and tell them we were being followed? In one case by a… a fucking… loser ex-boyfriend who can’t take a hint!”

She’s out of breath by the end, pointing her finger wildly at Agamemnon. Her cheeks are flushed. “Seriously!” she breathes. “It wouldn’t look good, I’m telling you that.”

Odysseus sighs. “Okay. Okay. We shouldn’t have come here.”

“No _shit,”_ Clytemnestra hisses.

“I’m not leaving without you. We can work this out, sweetheart,” Agamemnon says.

Her shoulders tense at his words. Patroclus steps towards him. “She doesn’t want that. Come on, man, you can tell she doesn’t want it. You have to let it go.”

On top of this, Menelaus is crossing his hands over his chest, eyes narrowed now at Achilles. Penelope is standing her distance from her boyfriend. Agamemnon still won’t move. Despite Clytemnestra’s aggressive words, her chest is heaving, and she still seems paralysed.

“You don’t speak for her,” Agamemnon says.

“I’m only trying to because you’re not listening.”

Ignoring this, Agamemnon looks past Patroclus at Clytemnestra. “How many times do I have to say I’m sorry? She meant nothing to me. And you can seriously forgive her, and not me?” He steps forward. Patroclus shoves out his hand onto his chest.

“Get off me,” Agamemnon says, grabbing his hand and pushing past, causing Patroclus to fully step in front of him and shove him backwards.

For a moment, Agamemnon looks shocked.

Then he throws a punch.

Someone gasps. Patroclus touches his jaw, and Achilles is immediately in beside him, returning the favour to Agamemnon.

Agamemnon stumbles back in surprise, laughs, and propels his body towards Achilles. Before he can even think, he’s in a full-blown struggle, pushing and grabbing and bending each other’s bodies. There are noises, shouting, all around them. He’s knocked in the side of the head, on the nose. Achilles pushes his right hand into Agamemnon’s face, trying to hold him back, when he feels the air knocked out of him as Agamemnon punches him in the stomach.

Achilles feels Agamemnon’s body being pulled back and, ignoring the pain shooting through his body, grabs him by the shoulders and knees him in the crotch. Hard.

Now, he feels someone pulling him back. Patroclus. Agamemnon is doubled over in pain, being held by Odysseus, who’s trying to talk him down. Achilles spits on the ground and turns. Patroclus is looking at him, wild-eyed. Achilles reaches up and touches his jaw. There’s a little blood coming from the corner of his mouth.

“Are you okay?” he heaves.

Patroclus lets out a quick laugh. “Seriously? Am I okay? Come on, let’s go sit down.”

“Get out of here,” Clytemnestra says, pointing to the boys car where Odysseus is ushering Agamemnon. Menelaus slowly follows them, eyes trained on Achilles before he finally turns. Patroclus guides Achilles to sit on the edge of an empty parking space.

Penelope drags her hands down her face as she sits in front of Achilles. “I swear to god, boys are all such…”

“Fucking morons,” Cassandra provides, deadpan.

Penelope looks Achilles over with Patroclus.

“An ice-pack would be good,” Patroclus says. “We don’t have one, but for both of us it’d be good.”

“M’fine,” Achilles mumbles. “It’s mainly my stomach.”

Penelope shakes her head. “You’ll both have bruises.”

“Are you telling me… I won’t be pretty for the ball?” Achilles says, eyes fluttering shut. Patroclus laughs out loud and he can hear Penelope offer a small huff of laughter herself.

“You’re some kind of pretty,” Patroclus says. “Pretty damn stupid.”

Achilles chuckles. He opens his eyes, and Penelope is rolling her eyes.  The other three boys are beside their car, now. Agamemnon throws Odysseus off with his arm. Achilles swallows.

“Did Odysseus tell them? About Helen?”

She shakes her head. “No, thankfully he’s not that stupid. Though, he is so, extremely stupid. Bringing them out here. God, I’m going to kill him.”

Cassandra is standing beside Clytemnestra, who is leaning against Achilles’ car. He nods his head towards them.

“She going to be okay?”

Penelope looks too. Shrugs.

They watch as Menelaus and Agamemnon finally get into the car. Odysseus comes back over one more time, to talk to Penelope.

“Pen.”

“Nope,” she says. “You don’t get to give me that look. I’m seriously mad at you.”

“I was worried.”

“Doesn’t give you the right to follow me. Definitely doesn’t give you the right to bring those meatheads with you.”

He sighs. “I really thought – they seemed so concerned, and Agamemnon, he didn’t even tell me that Clytemnestra and him weren’t together anymore… I thought he was just worried, too, and Menelaus,”

“No, stop. That’s not a good enough explanation. You were stupid,” she says. “Being worried doesn’t give you the right to follow us, and you should have known it wasn’t okay for them either. I told you… in confidence that Helen ran away. You don’t think he might have been at least part of what she was running from?”

Odysseus flinches. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. God, you really don’t think sometimes.”

He nods. Casts his eyes back.

“I’ll take them home,” he says. “And… if you don’t call me, that’s fine, I won’t send out a rescue party or anything.”

“Of course it’s fine. I don’t belong to you,” she says, lowering her voice to a whisper. And though it’s still angry, the next sentence she says makes Achilles blush a little. “I mean, I may belong to you, as much as you belong to me. But I mostly belong to myself.”

Odysseus gives her a smile, still subdued by guilt. She glares at him, but the corner of her mouth twitches. “You’ll get them home,” she says. He nods. “I’m still angry at you. Really.”

And then she kisses him. Slow and sweet and a little angry. Achilles looks away, but still hears the murmured exchanges of _I love you_ before he goes.

Achilles looks up at Patroclus. He’s also looked away, and is chewing on his bottom lip. After the car starts, Penelope walks over to the road to watch them drive away.

“We good to go, then?” Clytemnestra says.

Achilles raises an eyebrow. “Are you?”

“’Course. I’m fine.”

The look in her eyes is daring him to challenge it. He just shrugs and gets in the car, the rest following after him.

Once they’re on the road again, Penelope lets out a sigh. “I’m so sorry about that. It wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t told Odysseus.”

“Hey. It’s not your fault he did that,” Patroclus says.

“Yeah, but I do know how he can be sometimes… Thinking he’s being some kind of hero, without really thinking about how his actions have consequences.”

There’s a silence. And then, Clytemnestra asks: “What do you see in him?”

It’s posed surprisingly gently for her, Achilles thinks. It could have been a lot more accusatory.

Penelope laughs, though. “Oh, good question. I suppose – I can always have fun with him. That’s the biggest thing. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have fallen in love with him, I think. And I feel like no matter how I am around him, no matter what version of myself I’m being… he loves me anyway. Not just loves me, but thinks the world of me. That’s something else, it makes me feel...” she sighs. “Like I’m allowed to be whatever, whoever. Not just the one version of myself other people like. Although, it’s an attitude I can’t really say I reciprocate, since he can be such a self-centred ass.”

Cassandra giggles. Achilles tries to hide the fact that under his shades, his eyes are getting a little hot. It’s so stupid, but hearing them talk about love just makes him think about how Patroclus is sitting next to him, and all the feelings are coming back again. It’s only the morning, and he’s starting to worry that it’s going to keep feeling like this. Oh, god – what if it feels like this forever? Like half his body is screaming that he has to do something about it, and the other half would murder him if he tried. This feeling has to subside. He can’t go through his day-to-day like this.

As they drive, Patroclus’s music plays. He even opts to play a more popular song, just to get everyone in the car to sing along. Achilles doesn’t. Claims he needs to focus on driving. (Really, he just has the worst singing voice – even his mother told him so).

At some point the sky fills with clouds, hiding the sun and painting the sky grey.

“You don’t think there’s going to be a thunderstorm, right?” Clytemnestra says.

“There definitely is,” Cassandra replies, leaning over to peer out at the clouds. “I knew it the moment we woke up this morning.”

“How? It was beautiful and totally clear all morning.”

Cassandra grins. “Checked the weather on my phone.”

They pull up beside a beach for lunch, supplies they’d picked up by the café in the morning. Any other day and it would be stunning, crystal blue water and sun kissed white sand. But the wind has picked up. A hot wind. The trees sag under its growing pressure. The colour of the water is a deep, dark blue. It’s the afternoon.

“How long is it going to last?” Achilles asks, picking at his sandwich, not feeling all that hungry.

“If we’re lucky, not that long,” Cassandra muses. “Although the forecast didn’t look good. I think we might get drowned if we try and camp tonight.”

Achilles nods. Even if the rain stopped before nightfall, sleeping on the wet ground and risking the tents flooding was never a good idea. “We should probably find somewhere to stay, then.”

He noticed Patroclus look at him. There was worry on his face. Patroclus didn’t have the money to stay in a hotel, hardly had the money to spare for food on this trip. And Achilles knew if he offered to pay, Patroclus would probably get mad.

“Okay, but if we’re going to a hotel, I don’t want to sleep in some shithole. I can pay for two rooms,” Clytemnestra said, nonchalantly.

Penelope shakes her head. “No. We can’t have you do that. If you want to stay somewhere else, the rest of us can –”

“Don’t even worry about it,” she says, cutting Penelope off. “It’s my shitty family’s money, anyway. We’re out here looking for _my_ dumbass sister. Trust me, they don’t give a fuck how I spend the money they’ve given me. Hell, they’d probably be the happiest that I essentially spent it on her.” She shrugs. “They’re rich, and they don’t deserve the money they have. That’s just the truth of it.”

Achilles glances at Patroclus. He they kind of shrug at each other.

“You’re sure?” Penelope says.

She nods. Cassandra nods, too.

“All right. Why not.”

Cassandra and Clytemnestra do some research on their phones, and claim to find a place about a half-hour away. The wind gets colder the longer they sit outside. And more aggressive. Penelope calls Odysseus to see where they are as the other girls make the booking.

Achilles watches Patroclus stare out over the ocean, the wind wildly pushing at his floppy hair. He swallows.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Hm?” Patroclus says, turning. “Oh. Nothing really. Just… do you remember, when we were thirteen? And we went to the beach without telling your mother?”

Achilles laughs. He does. They had decided they were adults, now, at the ripe old age of thirteen, and walked an hour to get to the beach. By the time they got there the weather had turned to shit and since it took so long, they went swimming anyway, walked home half-naked and freezing, but also laughing the whole way. “God, yeah. She was so pissed. Yelling about how we could have drowned, even though she taught me to swim basically before I could even walk.”

“Yeah.” Patroclus smiles. Sighs, and blinks slowly. “Yeah. No one had even noticed I was gone.”

Immediately, Achilles’ smiles fades and he frowns at Patroclus. He’s still smiling, but not with his eyes, which are almost emotionless.

“I just wonder. Everyone’s looking for Helen, you know? And she doesn’t want to be found.” He rubs his jaw. “But if I went missing, it’d probably only be you who went looking for me.”

Achilles shakes his head. “That’s bullshit. At the very least, my mother would tear the world apart looking for you with me.”

Patroclus forces out a little laugh. He looks up, catches Achilles’ eyes. Looks like he might say something.

“Okay, we going?” Clytemnestra says, clapping them both suddenly on the back. “Penny’s done on the phone, and we got the last two rooms at the hotel. Very lucky. You two have to share a bed, but I bet you’re no strangers to that. If not, you can learn to suck it up. Let’s go!”

Achilles pats his friend on the shoulder. Removes his hand quickly when he realises it might have lingered a little too long.

And then they’re back in the car again before Achilles can really register what Clytemnestra had said.

 

-

 

The hotel is pretty small, but very beautiful. Just a ten-minute walk away from another town, perched on a cliff overlooking a beach, and the view is just gorgeous – apart from the rain, which had started to come down heavily just as they were driving in. There was still residual heat from the morning, but it was starting to dissipate, and they had to park the car a good hundred meters from the hotel. By the time they were inside, all of them were dripping wet all over the clean, white carpet, being watched by the opulent paintings of what Achilles assumed were the owners of the hotel or something.

The man at the reception didn’t seem to mind having wet, dirty teenagers in his hotel – two of which still definitely showed signs of being in a fight earlier today. He just offered them a warm smile, asked if it was them who made the last minute booking, and showed them to their rooms.

There are only two floors, and their rooms were both on the second. Not side by side, though. The girls were sharing a room with two twin-sized mattresses, and Achilles and Patroclus’s room is down the opposite end of the hall. The man grins as he shows them in, and Achilles just offers him an awkward thumbs-up.

“It’s really nice,” he says. “Thanks.”

He waves his hand. “Anything you gentlemen need, just let us know.”

And then he’s gone. Patroclus whistles.

“This place is _too_ nice.”

They look around. Thunder rolls again outside.

It’s a pretty big room – airy, blue and white. Beachy, but not tacky. The bed is one of those massive king-sized ones with the tall bed posts and a roof, with a billowy, see-through white curtain tied to the posts. And they have a balcony – it’s small, but overlooks the entire beach, and coastline. The grey sky actually looks magnificent.

“Wow,” Patroclus says. “It’s like we’re ruling over the seas.”

There’s a bolt of lightning. The rain’s coming down hard, but there’s a roof over the balcony, so it doesn’t add to the damage.

“I kind of want a shower,” Patroclus says. “I feel like… a sweaty, dirty camper.”

Achilles laughs, and nods. He hears Patroclus yell ‘oh shit!’ from the bathroom. He pokes his head out.

“There’s a jacuzzi bath,” he says, and the grin on his face is so goofy Achilles has to smile as he rolls his eyes. The door clicks shut and he hears the bath running, so he goes through his bag to find a dry change of clothes. He has one clean outfit left. After Patroclus is done in the bathroom, he’ll wash his clothes in the sink and hang them up somewhere overnight.

Stripping out of his wet clothes feels gross, as they stick and cling to his body, but he knows once he’s dry again it’ll be worth it. When he’s naked he grabs the towel off the bed and gives his body a once over so he doesn’t get the new clothes wet.

Which is of course when Patroclus opens the door again.

“Forgot my towel – oh, shit,” and Achilles watch as his eyes widen, unable to breathe as he watches Patroclus’s eyes move up and down his body before he spins around. “Fuck, sorry!”

Achilles can feel his face getting hot, mainly because Patroclus is making such a big show of turning away. They’ve basically seen each other naked before. Not exactly all the way, but… he swallows. “It’s fine. No big deal.”

He’s going to hand Patroclus the towel, but he’s already closed himself back inside the bathroom. Achilles rolls his eyes, pulls on some boxer shorts and knocks at the door.

Patroclus opens it slowly. He’s biting his lip, and is clearly trying his best to look anywhere but at Achilles, despite him being the only thing in front of him.

“Your towel?”

Patroclus nods, takes it from his hand, and then closes the door again before Achilles can say anything. He walks back over to the bed and sits on the edge, still basically naked. He sighs. Can’t help but wonder, a little bit, what Patroclus thought, seeing him like that. Even if he didn’t like guys… did he think Achilles had a nice body?

Stupid. Of course he didn’t. Probably just wished he hadn’t seen him at all, to save them both the embarrassment. But Achilles can’t stop himself from wishing that instead of turning away, Patroclus would have come over and touched him. Kissed him. Ran his hands all over his skin. Taken off his own clothes to even the score.

He shakes his head and gets dressed. After spending a few minutes fidgeting on the side of the bed, he takes one of the two cards to the door, and wanders down the hall to the girls’ room. Hesitating, not sure if it was 203 or 202, he decides it was 202 and knocks.

Penelope opens the door in a rush. She’s flushed. “Ah! Achilles. Let’s go on a walk. Please.”

For a moment, Achilles is confused. Then Penelope turns and bends to pick up her hotel key and his eyes shoot open wide at the scene behind her. Clytemnestra and Cassandra, furiously making out on one of the twin beds. Mouth agape, he just stands and stares until Penelope waves her hand in front of his face, and they leave, closing the door behind them.

“Sorry – I – wasn’t being creepy I just – I had no idea,” he says, trailing off.

“Really? I had some idea. But wasn’t totally sure until about a minute ago,” Penelope grumbles. “Thanks for saving me. It was like they didn’t even care I was there with them.”

They wander down the long hallway, heading to the stairs. Achilles is still a little bit in shock.

“Don’t want to put you in a coma, or anything, but the reason Clytemnestra and Agamemnon broke up is because he slept with Cassandra.”

Achilles stops. “What? What the,” he can’t even finish his sentence. _What?_

She shrugs. “All I’ve heard I heard from Helen. And Clytemnestra doesn’t speak to Helen much, so what she knew was either overheard in hallways or seen firsthand. She told me that they hadn’t known each other, and when Clytemnestra, she wanted to kill Cassandra. Then the next thing she knew, she was at their house every week.”

“That’s…” He can only shake his head, again. “Huh. Wow.”

“Yeah. Wow is what it is. I just hope they can keep their hands off each other while I’m in the room with them tonight,” she laughs.

They arrive in the reception area again, and make their way out the back door. There’s a sitting area, partly sheltered by a roof, and they decide to sit on wicker chairs on a table with a recently used ashtray. There’s only one other couple there, laughing, eating cheese and drinking wine.

“You know,” Penelope says as she leans back on the chair. It lets out a gentle squeak. “I thought you and Patroclus were together for a super long time.”

Achilles chokes on nothing. “Oh… Really?”

She nods. “I thought he just wasn’t telling me because he thought I’d judge him, or something. So then one day, I decided to try a well-intentioned but probably misguided hint that I knew and thought it was okay. That it was good. I said that we ought to go valentine’s day shopping together. And he asked who he would be shopping for, like I knew he would, and I just laughed like it was common knowledge that you were dating, and he really thought I was making some joke in poor taste. I only realised then you guys really weren’t a couple. He had to work to convince me.”

Achilles laughs, but also shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Do… other people think this?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. I only thought so because of how you two spent time with only each other so often, and because of how he spoke about you.”

“Spoke… how did…”

“Lovingly.”

Achilles knows he’s blushing now.

“He thinks you hung the moon, you know.”

“I…” he says. “He thinks that of you, too. He loves his friends.”

“Sure. But he’ll always love you the most.”

Achilles has to close his eyes and breathe. When he opens them again, Penelope is looking at him, a sympathetic frown creasing her face.

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” she asks, plainly. But there’s kindness there. There’s always kindness in her voice.

Achilles just nods. Swallows. He can’t deny it, even if it’s scary for someone else to know.

“I literally only realised last night. This morning. It was a dream,” he says, laughs, a little bitterly. “A stupid drunk kiss and a dream about oranges.”

“You kissed?”

“Yeah. But it was just… I said it was just because I thought it was crazy that no one had kissed him ever, and I was so drunk. I apologized a million times this morning, but he said it was okay.”

Penelope nods. He doesn’t mention that Patroclus kissed him, too. Weirdly enough, he doesn’t want to get her hopes up. He thinks if he tells her that, she’ll get excited and maybe get it in his head that he has a chance when he knows that it was just Patroclus being Patroclus.

“Are you okay?” she asks. “That’s a pretty big revelation.”

“No fucking kidding.”

They share a laugh. Achilles leans back on his chair.

“I hope this goes without saying, but I won’t tell anyone about this.”

“Thanks.” He smiles. “It’s nice to have someone else know. I’m still trying to work a lot of things out.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, like. How long have I felt like this? I seriously didn’t even know I liked guys until now.”

She nods, considering. “Do you still like girls?”

“Yes.” The sureness of his response surprises even him. He had been considering that maybe he didn’t, maybe society just lead him to believe he did, but he knows that’s not true. “I’ve always been sure of that. And I guess… since I knew that, I didn’t even stop to consider…” he trails off. The wind picks up.

“I may be the straightest girl in the world, and totally unqualified to say, but it sounds like you’re bisexual to me.”

Bisexual. He tries the word out in his head. Knows it exists, of course, mainly as the butt of a variety of jokes.

“Can you be… bisexual…” the word still sounds a little stiff in his mouth. “If, you know. I think I probably like girls more than boys? More often, at least?”

She shrugs. “I don’t see why not.”

It’s a simple answer, but it feels right as soon as she says it. Why not, indeed?

He laughs. Slowly, at first, and then it keeps going – turns into a full blown, stomach clenching laughter. Penelope starts giggling too, presumably because he’s laughing so much. He feels giddy. Can’t stop laughing.

“What’s so funny?” she asks.

“I don’t even know.”

Wiping his eyes, the laughter starts to trail off.

“Thanks for counselling me through my sexuality crisis.”

“Oh, any time,” she says, a little breathless.

They sit for a while and watch the rain. He glances over at Penelope a few times. Her eyes are squinting at the sky, curls of her wild hair falling out of their loose tie at the back of her head. She really is beautiful, Achilles thinks. And not just in a conventionally attractive way, but just, something about her is so wise and soft at the same time. There’s always a curl to her mouth. Lines crinkling around her eyes.

There are a few rumblings of thunder, and with each crack of lightning they look at each other and grin. It’s not even six o’clock yet and it’s getting dark. The pale grey of the clouds has deepened, and the couple who was sitting out with them have long ago headed inside.

“So,” Penelope says, breaking their silence. “Are you going to tell him?”

Achilles doesn’t have the time to tell her no, of course not, because they’re interrupted by Clytemnestra.

“There you two are,” she says, heaving out a breath. Her hair is a mess. “I thought we’d scared you into taking the car and running away without us or something. Where’s mop head?”

Achilles frowns. “Patroclus? Still in our room, I’m guessing.”

“Okay, well go get him and bring him to our room. I’m ordering us room service for dinner, and we’re going to watch a movie. My choice.”

Helpless to resist the unstoppable force that is Clytemnestra, the two of them are pushed upstairs and Achilles goes back to his room to get Patroclus. He’s a little nervous as he opens the door, hoping it’s not too awkward between them.

Patroclus is lying, stretched out on the double bed, reading. His cheeks are a little flushed, probably from the heat of the bath. Lying the book down on his chest, he smiles. There’s a bruise forming on his face, which makes Achilles’ gut burn with anger.

“Hey. Where’d you go?”

He explains he was outside, chatting with Penelope.

“She’s great, isn’t she?”

Achilles finds himself quite adamantly agreeing.

Apparently, the incident earlier has been forgotten. Or will forever remain unspoken of, at least.

“Is the bath good?”

Patroclus’s eyes flutter closed, and he groans. “So good.”

Achilles can’t quite look at him. Clears his throat. “Good. Well, Clytemnestra is demanding we come into their room and eat room service while watching a movie.”

“God, what a chore,” Patroclus laughs, swinging his legs off the bed.

Achilles tells him they should probably wash their clothes, first. So they take turns, in the sink and the bath.

“Oh yeah – I saw Cassandra and Clytemnestra making out before.”

Patroclus does a double take. “What? Seriously?”

“I know. Penelope was desperate to leave the room.”

“Huh.” He frowns. Squeezes out his shirt. “I didn’t see that coming. But I guess it also makes sense. You know, the way they act around each other.”

“You think?”

He nods.

 “Are they like, properly dating, or just hooking up? Do you know?”

“No idea,” Achilles replies. “I would guess dating because of how much Clytemnestra wanted her on this trip.”

“True.”

Once they’re done, they hang the clothes up on the heated racks and head out into the corridor and down the hallway.

They knock on the girls’ door. Cassandra opens it, and waves them inside. The other two are sitting cross-legged on one of the beds. Penelope gives Achilles a little smile.

There’s another clap of thunder.

They end up choosing a variety of food – pastas and breads and various types of meat and vegetables. It’s a lot and when it comes it looks way too nice to eat. Clytemnestra chooses Pacific Rim on the pay-per-view television, which neither he or Penelope have seen before, to the other three’s horror. Patroclus is adamant he made Achilles watch it at some point, but he’s sure he hasn’t. Achilles has to remind him they were going to watch it, but ended up marathoning the Lord of the Rings trilogy for the third time instead.

Cass and Clytemnestra lie on one of the beds together, and Achilles and Patroclus end up taking the other one, with Penelope opting to sit in the big, comfy armchair alone. The bed is clearly not designed for two tall, athletic guys to share but they end up finding a comfortable half-lying, half-sitting space without too much tangling of their limbs. As they watch the movie, Achilles is hyper-aware of Patroclus’s warm body in a way he never really had been before. Side pressed against side. Patroclus’s arms are folded up under his head, but about twenty-minutes in he lowers them so his left arm is lying on top of Achilles’ own. He tries very hard to focus on the movie. It’s good, he thinks. But his mind is not doing most of his thinking right now.

Around halfway through the movie, he swears he feels Patroclus press the bare skin of his leg against his own. He can’t breathe. It takes him ten minutes of his heart beating in his throat to press back, gently enough that it might be written off as just shifting his body to get comfortable.

Then, Patroclus rests his hand on Achilles thigh.

His whole body nearly jolts, but he catches it in time so that it’s just a little jump. Patroclus doesn’t move his hand. The colours and sounds on screen are just colours and sounds.  

Genuinely feeling dizzy from just this gentle touch, Achilles wonders what the hell would happen if they ever did have sex. Shit. Nope. No, he absolutely can’t think about that right now. Blinking and pursing his lips, he fixes his eyes on the screen and really tries to watch. The very attractive leads are fighting monsters in their giant robot. Clytemnestra is making comments about drift compatible something. It’s very engaging.

But it’s not at all. What is Patroclus even doing? It’s probably nothing, and he’s just being stupid. They touch like this all the time. Well, something like this, at least. It’s not weird for them to touch each other, casually, affectionately. They’re very close friends. But… the hand on his thigh, on the day after they kissed, and then kissed again in the morning?

It could mean absolutely nothing and just be a coincidence.

Or.

In most situations, he doesn’t hesitate to act without thinking. But it takes all of his courage in the world to reach out and cover Patroclus’s hand with his own.

For a second, nothing happens. Then Achilles rubs his thumb on the side of his hand. And, so quickly he doesn’t have time to think, Patroclus flips over his hand under Achilles’ and links their fingers together.

He’s had real, actual, penetrative sex with two people, and it didn’t feel a modicum as good as this. It feels like his body is on fire, and he’s hyper aware of the billion-volt electric shocks coursing through his body from their connected fingers. Ever since he rubbed against Patroclus’s hand with his thumb there’s been no stop to the movements between them. Patroclus is moving his index finger up and down Achilles’, and there’s no way in his whole lifetime he’d ever have guessed that could feel so fucking erotic. It’s insane.

Also acutely aware of the other places their bodies are touching, he’s not sure who leans into the other first but they’re pressed up warm against each other, side by side, and Achilles has never wanted to kiss anybody so much in his whole damn life. Earlier today he’d been surprised Cassandra and Clytemnestra didn’t mind making out in front of Penelope, but he’s pretty sure that in this moment, if Patroclus let him, there’d be absolutely no stopping Achilles throwing him down on the bed and eating him alive. It’s honestly kind of scaring him, how little he feels in control of his body at the moment. It’s taking all his composure not to totally lose it in front of everyone.

The credits start, to his shock (when did the movie end? what even happened?), and panic sets in. When will Patroclus pull his hand away? Will he just pretend everything’s fine? There’s no way that he felt as amazing as Achilles did for the duration of that. He didn’t even pay attention, and now, Pacific Rim is undoubtedly his favourite movie of all time.

The girls are already talking. Discussing their favourite aspects of the movie. Grilling Penelope about what she thought. Patroclus nudges him in the side, and he jolts, looking at him. He gestures his head to the other bed.

“Hello?!” Clytemnestra shouts.

“Uh, sorry? What did you say?”

“Seriously? I said, did you like the movie?”

“Oh. Yeah. It was good.”

Patroclus runs his thumb down the centre of Achilles’ palm. He feels lightheaded.

She rolls her eyes. “Astounding enthusiasm. If you didn’t like it, just say so.”

“N-no. I did. I’m just… not really good at saying why I like stuff.”

He looks back at Patroclus. Looking him in the eye, while they’re still holding hands, Patroclus smiles. It’s almost too much. He needs to kiss him. Needs to lick and bite the smile off that red mouth.

Cassandra pushes open the curtains. “It’s still raining. Good thing we didn’t camp.”

“What’s the time?” Penelope asks.

Patroclus turns his head away, sits up, and finally lets go of Achilles’ hand. It immediately feels like a piece of him is missing. Patroclus picks up the clock next to the bed.

“Ten thirty,” he says. Stretches that beautiful, lithe body. Lets out a yawn. “We should probably head to our room.”

Yeah, back to their room. To sleep in the same bed. That would be fine. Great. Achilles could handle that, easily.

“We’ll see you boys tomorrow. Breakfast downstairs at eight?” Penelope says, and Clytemnestra groans.

“No, nine. Please. Let me sleep in this soft bed.”

They agree on meeting downstairs at nine tomorrow. and Achilles follows Patroclus out of the room, a little dazed. The light in the hallway is blinding, and the walk down along it is the longest of Achilles’ life. Completely silent. He has no idea what’s happening. Are they just not going to talk about it? Just go and fall in to bed? That’s probably it. Patroclus will wish him a good night, roll over, and be snoring within fifteen minutes. And Achilles will never sleep again, because there’s no dream he could have that would be as good as touching Patroclus like that.

Patroclus swipes the card on the door and holds it open for Achilles, who ducks his head as he walks in. He can’t look him in the eyes right now. Can’t risk what his face might be saying, unequivocally.

It’s still dark in their room, but Achilles’ eyes adjust quickly. Patroclus hasn’t moved from the doorway, so he finally looks up to the dark outline of his body. Nearly stops breathing when Patroclus steps toward him.

“I don’t want to be ungrateful,” Patroclus says, and, oh god, his voice is so low and breathy and unlike Achilles has ever heard it before, what the fuck, “but you didn’t really kiss me properly, last night.”

Achilles throat has gone completely dry. “What?” he breathes. Like an idiot. Can’t say anything else.

“It’s just… if that was supposed to prepare me, I didn’t really learn anything. Can we try again?”

He finally registers what Patroclus is asking him, and a sound like he’s dying comes from the back of his throat as he leans forward and seizes his friend in a kiss. A real kiss. Not open mouthed straight away, because he needs to ease into it. But his hands wrap around the back of Patroclus’s neck, and he responds with a groan, stepping forward to grab Achilles by the hips. His hands are firm.

Slowly, Achilles opens his mouth, prying open Patroclus’s lips with his own, and then his tongue, and it feels like his body is on fire. Patroclus hasn’t shaved in two days and his stubble rubs against Achilles’ cheek and it hurts in the best way. They slowly work out a rhythm, Patroclus’s inexperience clouded by his enthusiasm, until it’s so good Achilles might actually be shaking.

He moves one of his hands down to Patroclus’s lower back and pulls him towards himself, which is when he stutters on his own breath. Patroclus is hard. Fuck. Achilles lets out a whine, and Patroclus, who had been trying to pull his body away, stops moving for just long enough so that Achilles can press his own aching erection against him. Patroclus pulls his mouth away to take in a breath. There’s a moment of pause, where Achilles opens his eyes, and can see the dark, blown out pupils in front of him. He glances at Patroclus’s lips, which are swollen, and so beautiful. Achilles bets that if the lights were on, they’d be red as cherries.

Then, Patroclus presses his face into Achilles’ neck. “God. God. Achilles,” he says, and he sounds just. Wrecked. He needs a soundbite of that. Patroclus, saying his name – just like that.

“Hey,” he breathes back, not sounding so composed himself. “I don’t want to – push you, into anything, but if you wanted to.” He swallows. “I could. Jerk you off,” he says, in a rush.

Patroclus, who was mouthing at his neck, pauses. Pulls his head up. Achilles’ heart is in his throat.

“It just –”

Patroclus cuts him off again with a kiss. It’s filthy. And wet. He feels himself being pushed backwards, backwards, held up only by Patroclus’s arms, and then he’s being laid back on the bed.

“Please,” Patroclus just murmurs. “Please.”

They need to talk about this. Need to talk about what it means, what they’re feeling, anything at all. But thinking rationally, having a proper discussion, seems pretty much impossible to Achilles right now, who literally only has one thing on his mind.

Patroclus pulls of his own shirt, and god. Achilles could just sit here all day and look up at him like this. But then Patroclus is lifting up Achilles’ own shirt, and he gets with the program, tugging it off as fast as he can. Patroclus leans down for another kiss and Achilles sighs into it. Their skin, touching, feels amazing. It’s always been his favourite part about sex, and with Patroclus, it’s the best thing he’s ever felt.

“Am I okay?” Patroclus asks, biting his bottom lip and then leaning in for another quick kiss. “At this, I mean?”

“Fuck,” Achilles says, and lets out a laugh. “Yeah, dude. You’re a quick study.” _You’ll really impress some nice girl someday,_ he almost adds, but it makes his heart hurt a little bit.

Patroclus smiles. He’s looking between Achilles eyes, mouth, and chest. Eyelids fluttering. “You… you look,” he says. Swallows. “Good.”

Achilles pulls him into a kiss again, pushing his body to the side and down so that Achilles is on top of him. He pulls back and reaches down to fumble with Patroclus’s fly, tugging at the zipper and then leaning back so he can pull at his waistband with both hands.

Just as he’s got it down a couple inches, he pauses. “Is this okay?”

Patroclus just nods vigorously. His floppy curls are all over the place. Achilles is so in love with him he can barely breathe. Barely believes this is real.

He finally pulls the shorts all the way off, and his mouth goes dry.

Just yesterday, he thought he didn’t like guys at all. Now, he has the almost uncontrollable need to put his mouth on his friends’ dick.

He’s had it done to him before. Knows what feels good. He looks up at Patroclus, who has a hand on his face. Doesn’t break eye contact as he shuffles down his body and settles into place, which is when Patroclus seems to realise what he’s about to do.

“Oh, god,” he groans. “Achilles _._ ”

“Can I? It feels really good. I promise.”

Patroclus lets out something halfway between a laugh, and a sob. “ _Please._ ”

So he does.

It feels a little strange, at first. He decides he needs to wrap a hand around the rest of him, the part he has no chance of getting in his mouth, and that feels better. Being careful with his teeth, he leans down and takes as much of Patroclus in his mouth as he can. His eyes close. Patroclus makes a noise suspiciously close to a whimper.

And then he starts to move.

The times he’s gotten head, he’s always assumed it couldn’t possibly feel good for the girls. Just a favour, like it mostly felt when he did it to them. It was fun, sure, but it’s not like he really got his own pleasure out of it beyond feeling good that he’s made someone else happy.

But this – he feels like part of him was made to do this. With every twitch he feels a tremor roll throughout his body. He’s harder than he can ever remember being. Pulling off to catch his breath, he looks up at Patroclus.

Which he shouldn’t have done. He looks dazed, flushed, even in the dark. And to know that he’s doing that, he’s making him feel good. It’s just – so much. His hand is still moving, almost absent-mindedly. It feels so good to hold him in his hand. So right.

“Sorry, I haven’t – you know. I’ve never done this,” Achilles says.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Patroclus says, and reaches a hand into Achilles’ hair, which makes him melt immediately. He sighs into the gentle way Patroclus is raking his long, big fingers through his hair. He can’t help it, he leans down and licks his cock.

And that does it. Suddenly, Patroclus is coming, and Achilles is so shocked at how good it feels to watch it. To see him through it, still moving his hand.

Once it’s over, Achilles slides down to the floor, and quickly shoves his own shorts down. It takes an embarrassingly short time for him to come, too, thinking about how Patroclus felt in his hand. In his mouth.

“You –” he hears Patroclus’s voice, feels a hand on his shoulder. “Oh, fuck. I could’ve done that. Come up here.”

Achilles does. By some magic, he manages to pull himself up onto the bed. Patroclus is half sitting, covered in his own come. That’s an image he will have in his head and his dreams for the rest of his entire life.

Patroclus gets up, comes back and cleans them both up, but Achilles is already half asleep. He just groans, pulls the covers up over himself. Then kicks them off again, because he’s hot. Patroclus finally flops into bed next to him. He wants to stay awake. To talk. To ask what this meant, if anything. But he can’t keep his eyes open.

“What’m I gonna do with you,” he murmurs, letting an arm flop out in front of him. He hears a small laugh.

“I think I’d like to know that, too,” he hears. Or almost hears, before he’s drifting off to sleep.

 

-

 

In the morning, he wakes up to an empty bed. The sun is streaming in through the windows. It takes Achilles another moment to remember what happened last night. When he does, he shoots up straight. Stumbles out of bed and finds the clothes he was wearing yesterday, pulls them on just so he’s not naked. His eyes flash back to the bed and he’s bombarded with flashes of what happened, which makes his face flush a deep red. The clock reads 9:03.

Shit. Didn’t the girls want to meet at nine? Did… did Patroclus leave without him? Did he want to avoid talking to him, because of last night?

Just then, the door on the balcony opens. He hears Patroclus’s voice.

“Yeah, right. Okay. That’s great, thank you.”

When he looks in Patroclus’s eyes, he doesn’t know what’s there. He hangs up the phone and offers an awkward smile.

“Who was that?” Achilles asks.

“Huh? Oh, nothing. It’s… breakfast time, yeah? We should go down.”

So, that’s how it’s going to be. Okay.

“Yeah,” Achilles says. Runs a hand through his hair. Just like Patroclus had done, last night. He looks down at his feet and then heads for the door. They make it down in complete silence.

He doesn’t think he’ll be able to survive this.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow this chap is SUPER LONG i'm sorry? i hope you liked it. i'm trying to be consistent but i hate proofreading my writing so much because it means i have to READ IT you know... that's too hard. & i updated the rating because WHOOPS.  
> 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING!!!  
> this chapter contains a panic attack and references to suicidal feelings

The girls are sitting at a table outside. Everything not under shelter is still wet, but the stormy weather has certainly subsided, the sunshine returned and spreading out far over the beach. Food is already covering the table. It’s one of those hotels with a buffet breakfast, and usually Achilles has a massive appetite in the mornings, but right now he feels no desire to eat. Or do anything. He mostly just wants to go back to bed and never get out again.

“There you two are. I thought you’d be the ones out here earlier than us,” Penelope says. Achilles tries to give her a smile as he takes his seat next to her, but it comes out pretty weak.

He realises after a few moments that Clytemnestra is half sitting, sideways, resting her legs on Cassandra’s. And can’t really bring himself to care.

“The cat’s out of the bag, I heard,” Clytemnestra says through a mouthful of toast. “Cass and I are dating. Hope that’s… okay.”

She eyes them warily. Achilles nods, but can’t muster up any enthusiasm, and can’t look at Patroclus to see his reaction. Not that he’s not happy for them, he’s just feeling very sorry for himself right now.

Penelope puts her mug down. “Achilles, wanna get some coffee with me? I’m out.”

He looks up and sees the concern on her face, and nods half-heartedly. They walk over, inside, to the table of drinks. There are so many old people around them. They must be the only people under fifty in the whole building.

Achilles stares down at the coffee machine, and realises Penelope is waiting for him to say something.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks.

She lets out a frustrated sigh. “Yeah. I slept fine. Come on. Are you okay? You look miserable.”

He looks up at her. Can’t resist those kind eyes.

“No, I’m not,” he says. “Patroclus and I… we… hooked up. Last night.”

Her eyes bug out. “ _What?_ Wh- wait. Why are you so upset? What happened? Was it… Achilles.” She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. “Was everything consensual –”

“Yes! Jesus, yes, of course!” he runs his hand through his hair. A silver haired man appears next to them, waiting for the coffee, so he grabs Penelope’s forearm and pulls her over to the empty corridor to the side of the dining hall, lowering his voice. “I asked him if he wanted it, like, multiple times.”

“And you did? Want it, I mean?”

“Are you kidding?” he asks, no humour in his voice. “I never wanted anything more in my life.”

She frowns. “Okay… So what’s the problem?”

“The problem is – it didn’t mean anything to him. He just – we woke up and he’s pretending like it didn’t even happen. Which is fine, and I shouldn’t expect anything else, he was just. He just wanted to, I don’t know. Not be a virgin anymore, or whatever, and learn how to like, kiss properly. It was me who was stupid for thinking anything else.”

At this, Penelope slowly shakes her head, and actually starts laughing. “That… Achilles. That can’t be true.”

He finds himself getting mad. “Well, it is. You asked, and I told you. And I don’t think this is funny.”

“Did he say that to you?”

He purses his lips. “Kind of. Definitely about the kissing, yeah.”

“I… You just. You don’t just have sex with your best friend, without it being a big deal. Without it meaning something.”

“Well, apparently, sometimes, you do! Maybe you wouldn’t, but it’s different, because your best friend is your boyfriend. But… here it was just… he was caught up in the heat of the moment. Fuck, so was I. I knew it was a stupid idea, that we should have talked, but my body is just the worst sometimes.”

She nods. Takes a long pause, thinking it over. “Okay. I understand that. Hormones are a lot, so I get where you’re coming from. But I do stand by the fact that there’s no way it meant nothing to him. Not when I know how much you mean to him.”

Achilles feels tears stinging his eyes. “Yeah. I know what it means. It means he doesn’t want to look me in the eye now, because he knows how much I want him. It means I’ve ruined our friendship entirely.”

“No way. Come on.”

He shakes his head. “It’s true.”

“Achilles, _stop,_ ” she says, and pulls him into a hug. It startles him, at first, his body staying rigid. Then he melts into it. Wraps his arms around her small frame. She’s so warm, and smells like some sort of flowers. Probably her shampoo. Girls always have flowery shampoos. She holds onto him tightly, and just a little, he lets himself cry.

“Listen to me,” she says into his chest, and then pulls back. Grabs him by the jaw, so he’ll look her in the eyes, even though he wants to look away because he’s crying. “Your friendship is not over. Okay? Look. Imagine it was you and me who hooked up last night. And you woke up thinking, ‘whoops, that was a mistake, because I’m still in love with Patroclus and don’t have feelings for Penelope’. Right?”

He nods dumbly.

“Would you just never speak to me again?”

He widens his eyes. “No.”

The answer comes out before he’s even thought about it. Two days ago, he would’ve definitely thought yes. But now…

“And we’ve only been friends for like, a day. Now, are you saying Patroclus would be that petty towards you?”

He feels warmth in his chest when she says that. Calls him her friend. He is also aware that what she’s saying does make sense.

“No,” he mumbles, when she still won’t let go of his face. Finally, she does, and her features soften.

“That boy loves you. You love him. No matter what, you’ll find a way to work it out. And if he really doesn’t feel the same way about you as you do about him, I promise. Right now, okay, I promise that you will get over it. I know it may feel impossible, but it’s not the end of the world. I truly mean that. And in the meantime,” she says, taking his hand into hers, “I’ll be here for you.”

And, for fuck’s sake, he’s crying again. “Shit,” he mumbles. “You really are… something else, Penelope. I can’t believe I…” he sniffs, and laughs. “Can’t believe I wasted my time in high school not knowing you.”

She beams. Tugs him into a hug again. “Who knew,” she murmurs, “that the big athlete I always assumed was a dumb jock asshole was such a sweet, soft baby.”

They both laugh. He wipes the tears off his cheeks and tries to compose himself.

“Okay,” he says, taking a deep breath. “You’re right, I’ll be fine. And I do really want coffee.”

They go back inside, arms linked together (a little awkwardly because of their height difference). They grab a few things to eat, and more coffee, as promised. The silver haired man from before gives him a wink, and he snorts.

“He thinks you’re my girlfriend,” Achilles whispers.

“You should be so lucky,” she whispers back, which gets him laughing again.

They arrive back at the table, where the other three are talking. Patroclus has gotten himself something to eat, and Achilles forces himself to look him in the eye. They share a slightly awkward smile, and he tries to ignore the pit of anxiety in his stomach.

They will be fine. Even if it takes a little while. Even if, right now, it feels like he’s being broken into pieces.

After sitting, mostly silent, as Cassandra and Clytemnestra shoot back and forth at each other about the best potential superpowers, Patroclus clears his throat.

“So, uh,” he says. “I kind of applied for a few summer internships overseas. And this morning I got a call from this place in London – a research lab. Something happened, and they want me there in like, a week.”

Achilles’ hand pauses halfway to his mouth.

“Shit, that’s rad!” Clytemnestra says. “Congrats, dude.”

Cassandra nods. “So amazing!”

Penelope glances nervously at Achilles, then breaks out in a big smile. “That’s incredible, Patroclus. Really wonderful.”

Patroclus rubs at the back of his neck, looking down at his lap. “Yeah. It’s kind of an amazing place, and a crazy opportunity. Especially since I really want to go to university in Britain, anyway, either Edinburgh or London. So.”

Achilles has to swallow his feelings. “Yeah,” he finally croaks out. “That’s. I’m so happy for you.” Clears his throat. “I just got to go to the bathroom, sorry, I’ll be right back.”

He rushes through the dining area, makes his way into the bathroom in the lobby and has what he’s pretty sure is a panic attack in the small, well lit room.

 

-

 

Helen can’t breathe.

She tried to tell Paris last night about fainting in the grocery store, but he didn’t seem to understand what a big deal it was. They had footage of her fainting in that store, now, probably. They called an ambulance. Who might come looking for her. She was so, so stupid.

So stupid. For so many reasons.

Thank god Paris left for work, because she’s been crying in bed since the second he closed that door. He hates it when she cries.

But she can’t stop. Can’t stop crying. At one point she gets up to use the bathroom, sees her own face – a blotchy, red, puffy horror show – and slides down to the cold, tiled floor and cries some more.

What a selfish fool she’s been.

Maybe her life hasn’t been perfect. But whose has? She was so sure, so sure that when she went missing, no one would care. But the more she thought about it, the more she realised that everyone probably thought she was dead, or kidnapped, or something. And that they would memorialise her as some sort of saint. By the time she’d realised this, it was already too late. Already been promised a life far away, by a strange man she met online who promised her the world. Made her feel like someone really might give a damn.

And when they found out she was fine, that she was here of her own volition – how everyone would hate her. They would demonise her. Make her wish she’d never tried to be anything more than just a beautiful girl.

In the shower, she willed herself to stop crying. To compose herself again, for later, when he came home.

He was the only person she had left, now.

 

-

 

Achilles has had something close to a panic attack before, he thinks. Looked it up online afterwards. His chest feels like it’s constricting, trying to suffocate him, and he can’t stop breathing like he’s drowning.

They were supposed to at least have time. To fix everything. To say goodbye.

After a while, he realises he’s been lying on a bathroom floor and has calmed down enough that he can prop himself up again.

It really had only hit him just now. That he really was going to lose him. What Patroclus had said in the woods was right. The distance, on top of what happened last night, would pull them apart. They’d become Facebook friends. And as much as he wanted to believe what Penelope said, it seemed impossible right now that he’d ever move on. That he could ever love anybody else the same way.

And then, again, he really did want to be happy for Patroclus. That his life was going the way he always wanted it too. If he really did love him, he would be overjoyed that this was happening. He was being so stupid, and so selfish.

Pulling himself up on only barely shaky legs, he makes his way back out to their table. Gives Patroclus a huge grin.

“I’m so happy for you,” he says, interrupting whatever he’s saying about… he doesn’t even know. “I can’t believe it. Or, I can. Of course. You’re the best, and you’re going to win a Nobel prize someday, obviously.”

Patroclus raises his eyebrows, and laughs. “Well, yeah. Obviously.”

Nervously, he glances at Penelope, who looks concerned. He gives her a smile. Tries to make it mean something.

“Well, are we going to get back on the road?” Clytemnestra says. “My sister’s not going to find herself. Got to get the boat today, I looked it up. Leaves every six hours. If we head off now, we should be able to catch the twelve o’clock one.”

Achilles nods. They have to get a boat – one of those ones you can drive your boat onto – to get to where Helen is. He can make himself think about that, instead of how he’s losing one of the most important things in his life in a matter of days.

In a way, maybe it’s good they hooked up last night and made everything weird. It might deteriorate their relationship faster, so he doesn’t have to painfully hang on to years of distant communication that stutters and dies into an impossibly lonely silence.

They go back to their rooms to grab their stuff. He’s painfully aware that they’re not talking, once they’re in the room alone together, but Achilles just busies himself packing away the dried clothes and loose ends around the room. It takes everything in his power to avoid looking at the bed. For what happened inside of it, that apparently meant nothing. Though the reason he couldn’t look was because it meant too much.

“Hey,” he hears Patroclus’s voice, soft, from behind him. “Can we talk?”

His heart is beating wildly in his chest as he folds a t-shirt. Never in his life, he thinks, has he bothered to fold a t-shirt.

“About what?” he says, trying to keep any and all emotion out of his voice. There’s another long, unbearable stretch of silence.

“You’re really okay with me leaving in a week?”

So that’s what they can talk about. Not last night. Achilles finally faces him, and shrugs. “Of course. I want what you want. A bright future. It’s great.”

Patroclus won’t stop frowning, so Achilles focuses on shoving the shirt into his bag and standing. Offers Patroclus a smile.

“You got everything?”

He gives the room another once over, and doesn’t let his eyes catch on the bed before turning to walk out the door without listening to Patroclus’s answer.

The girls are in the lobby, Clytemnestra talking to the receptionist to check out.

“I’ll meet you in the car,” he tells them, and heads outside alone.

He feels his phone vibrate as soon as he’s outside.

 

**Penelope**

10:09 a.m.

_hey seriously your acting weird and so is patroclus_

_didnt i say you guys needed to talk?_

_hold on, let me guess_

_you didnt talk_

 

He puts the phone away without responding.

The summer sunshine is back in full force. When he steps out onto the grassy garden in front of the hotel, part of him wants desperately to look back.

But he ignores that part of himself, and heads towards the parking lot. All that mattered now was finding Helen.

 

-

 

The drive to the boat went similarly to the other stretches of the trip, meaning Achilles spent it in almost total silence. The main difference was that Patroclus did, too. Clytemnestra and Cassandra certainly didn’t seem to notice, either humming along to the music or fondly bickering about any topic they could conjure.

Achilles manages to quite successfully focus on just the music for the duration, until they arrived at the harbour. They had to queue in a line of cars, which meant half an hour without momentum. It shouldn’t have been different to driving, but the fact that he wasn’t doing anything at all, and that there was no scenery blowing past the windows made him extremely antsy.

“Let’s play a game!” Clytemnestra suggests. This time, there’s a resounding chorus of _no’s,_ particularly from Achilles and Patroclus.

He hears her scoff. “What the fuck’s got up all your asses?”

“Nothing,” Patroclus mumbles.

“We’re just all tired,” Penelope says.

Achilles just grunts, and reaches over to turn the music up.

His phone vibrates in his pocket.

 

**Patroclus**

11:35

_you’re mad at me. tell me why._

 

Rolling his eyes, he puts the phone back away.

It vibrates again. And again.

And again.

He pulls it out with an exaggerated sigh.

 

**Patroclus**

11:36

_talk to me._

_talk to me._

_achilles._

_please._

 

**Achilles**

11:38

_Stop being so childish._

 

**Patroclus**

11:39

_ME stop being childish? are you shitting me?_

 

He puts the phone away again. It keeps vibrating. Finally, he shoots Patroclus his most withering stare. Patroclus just raises his eyebrows defiantly. Types one out again.

 

**Patroclus**

11:40

_i’m sorry if last night upset you okay?_

_or is this about me leaving. do you not want me to._

_I don’t want things to be like this between us._

_I just want everything to go back to the way it was before_

_stop being a shit_

 

Achilles grits his teeth as he reads the texts. He feels tears stinging his eyes again, and his heart catching in his throat.

So that’s the way it was.

 

**Achilles**

11:44

_I am not mad at you. I guess I’m upset to be told you’re leaving so abruptly, but of course I don’t want you to stay. This is your life and your dreams. I’m just sad and I want space to feel that on my own._

He doesn’t mention last night, because he can’t. Again, his phone vibrates.

 

**Patroclus**

11:45

_okay._

 

The music that’s playing is almost comically unmatched to how he feels right now – an upbeat, light, pop tune with a girl singing about how happy she is to be in love with ‘the one’. He could almost laugh about it.

Once again, his phone vibrates, and he has to steel himself for what Patroclus could possibly want to say next, but it’s not from him.

 

**Penelope**

11:48

_i SEE you texting him. u didnt text me back_

_im seriously worried about you two come on_

 

Finally, the cars start to move to arrange themselves on the boat, and Achilles could kiss the guy operating the boom gate for giving him something to do with his hands.

When they’re finally parked, they’re free and able to walk around the boat. Achilles immediately gets out of the car and heads to the top level. He’s looking out over the ocean as the boat starts to pull away from the shore when there’s a tap on his back.

“Talk to me,” Penelope says.

“I can’t right now.”

“Did you two talk?”

He sighs. Hands her his phone. She reads over them, then looks up at him.

“You didn’t tell him how you felt about last night.”

“Yeah, well, Penelope, I’d sooner throw myself off of this boat and get caught in the propellers and turned to red soup than do that. So, no, I didn’t tell him how I felt about last night.”

She sighs. “Yeah, you are not dramatic at all.”

He turns and leans against the handrails, taking a deep breath.

“Okay. If you can’t tell him how you feel about that, you at least have to go and talk through how you feel about him leaving.”

The thought makes him feel lightheaded.

“And I have to remind you I think you should just tell him everything, so this is a compromise.”

She’s right. He can see Patroclus, now, standing over on the other side of the boat, leaning on the rail, looking like something out of a dream.

It’s certainly not as bad as what Penelope really wants him to do, and he would feel a lot better if there wasn’t this awful tension between them. Especially when he was leaving, and this could be the last time they really spend together in a year, or more.

“Okay. I’ll try. Because you want me to,” he says.

She beams. “Gosh, nothing ever gets done without me, does it?”

He rolls his eyes and makes his way over to where Patroclus is standing. He shoves his hands in his pockets.

“You had to know I’d be sad to see you go,” he manages.

Patroclus turns. The pained expression on his face deepens. “Of course. I don’t want to leave – I can’t imagine a day to day life without you. But I figured, a week or a few months – I didn’t want it to be dragged out, anyway. It feels like ages since I’ve been around you and thought anything other than how much I’m going to miss you. It hurts.”

What he’s saying does make sense.

Achilles sighs. “Tell me about it.”

They both look out over the water.

“I don’t know what… what it is, about us. I know we’re not normal friends. You’re like,” Patroclus says, and takes a breath. “You’re the other half of my body. All my vital organs. I don’t feel it about anyone or anything else.” He looks at Achilles, eyes wide. “Am I crazy?”

“No,” he says. “Well, yeah, but I know. I know. I feel it too.”

Patroclus sighs. “It’s like you said. That’s got to transcend distance.”

Achilles stays silent.

“I really could stay,” he says, and it’s almost a whisper. “I will. If you want me to.”

Achilles’ hands tighten on the cold metal of the rail. He doesn’t know much, but he knows that’s probably not healthy. That, even if he says that, Patroclus would always resent him for stopping him becoming what they both know he could become.

“Now you’re really being crazy,” Achilles says, and tries to put some humour into it. “If we can’t function without each other, well. I’m pretty sure a therapist would have something to say about that, first of all. And second of all, I think you’re out of your mind if you think you won’t be best off far, far away from me.”

Patroclus punches him in the arm. “Come on, don’t be a dick.”

“I can’t really help it. It’s my natural born state.”

“Oh, trust me. I know that already.”

They both laugh at that. There’s definitely more he wants to say. Like, _I love you,_ and, _I’ve never been happier than when I was kissing you,_ and, _I think it might be impossible for me to think about anything else._

But for once, he’s blessed with impulse control, and keeps that all to himself. Locked up in his heart to rot and eat him alive.

Instead, he just pulls his best friend in for a hug.

They stand like that, pressed together, for a very long time. Until Achilles is sure their hearts must be beating in time with one another, in devastating synchronicity.

 

-

 

The hours pass so strangely when you’re alone with nothing to do.

Helen had, of course, wanted some kind of job. But that was hard, when the police were looking for you. As for hobbies – she’d certainly never been that artistic, so painting and writing were off the table. She tried yoga and had nearly lost her mind with its futility.

Being so alone with nothing but her own thoughts was doing nothing to help her mental state. She was just as depressed as she was at home, if not more, without Penelope to alleviate her loneliness. Paris was only here at nights, and he just wanted to have sex and talk about himself. Helen could easily put in earplugs, if he couldn’t see them, and just nod for hours to achieve the same amount of participation in their conversations.

Not that the sex was bad. It was mostly nice. He had a wonderful body, and always told her he loved her afterwards, which was a sweet gesture. Although, she did wonder what it was that he really loved about her, considering he never asked her any questions about herself, or really listened what she had to say at all.

I mean. She could take a guess.

With every passing day, she started to feel more and more like a prisoner. Which she knew was a selfish thing to think. She probably deserved to be a prisoner, to feel this way. Still, that didn’t stop her from wistfully looking outside, watching the inseparable couples walking their fluffy, happy dogs. The smartly dressed men and women on their phones, walking with great purpose and determination. The parents with their children, hauling them up onto their shoulders and laughing like the world was free and easy. Even the cat that often sat on the fence in their yard seemed to flaunt its carefree attitude towards the world. _I belong here,_ it seemed to say, with every flick of its tail. _What about you? What about you?_

What, indeed.

She flicks through the channels on the old television with a glazed monotony. Letting the people on the screen speak a couple words before disappearing them into a brief darkness. The next moment, they’re brought to life again as someone else.

Click. A woman. “God help me,” Click. A garden. Silence. Click. A woman. “Didn’t even know about,” Click. A child. “Really? I wish that,” Click. A man. “Anything left,” Click. Off. Darkness.

She must be going mad.

Paris has lots of old records. He is obsessed with Pink Floyd, and seems to think that makes him very special. He’s talked about it to Helen many times with great enthusiasm, like he’s giving her the secret knowledge of the world, and not talking about a hugely popular band. She didn’t have the heart (or the space in the conversation) to tell him she’d already listened to them a lot growing up, and was pretty much over it by now.

Pulling out the well-used, musty envelope containing _Dark Side of the Moon,_ she feels a little twinge of sadness. One of the only fond memories she has that involves all her siblings is standing on Clytemnestra’s bed, dramatically performing _Money_ and acting like they themselves were the English rock band. Music was the one thing they had in common.

Helen’s favourite had always been _Time,_ though. She puts the record on the player and moves the needle to the groove, the player letting out a staticky _whoosh_ as she finds the track. The chaotic bells and chimes start, and she stands back, taking a deep breath. 

The house is fairly dark. She didn’t keep the lights on in the day time. Didn’t generally want people to think anyone was home, in case they came knocking. The sections of sunlight that streamed through the blinds illuminated the floating specks of dust that circulated the room.

It’s an old house, a small house, one for couples just before starting a family. The kind of house you can almost feel ghosts inside – not in a spooky, haunted way, but rather a lived kind of history. The walls creaked and moaned with old conversations and life that hadn’t quite escaped. Looking over at the doorframe, you could easily see a beautiful young woman standing in a headscarf and high-waisted acid wash jeans, laughing and holding a dishcloth. On the couch, a man with a dark beard and thick glasses reading a newspaper with his legs crossed over each other, cigarette burning between his index and middle finger. Perhaps, at the dining table, a stained high-chair with a happy, fat baby waving around its arms in euphoric delight.

And now, among it all, there is Helen, standing alone on the rug in the centre of the living room. Swaying and turning and letting her eyes close and open. Her hair encircling her body and twirling like she’s flying.

She blinks the past and present in and out. The baby might be her own. The man might Paris. The woman might be her. She might be laughing. She might be happy.

The neighbours would visit, and she’d be friends with all the other mothers and housewives. They would have dinner parties and barbeques. They’d talk about all the developments in the town, the dreadful tragedies in the news, the ways their husbands drove them mad. They’d laugh about inane gossip. Share favourite local coffee shops. Her baby would grow up and she’d finally experience everything her human biology told her brain was right, was necessary. The continuation of her family tree. Could that be where happiness was? Could that be the reason it always went that way?

Slowly, she lowers herself to the floor and feels the scratchy orange rug rub against her bare skin. The music beats in her ears, among a cacophony of sounds both from her own mind and what she knows must be the past. The future. She’s dizzy with it all, staring up at the ceiling as it begins to spin.

The house starts to close in on her.

 

-

 

“This is it,” Penelope says as they pull up outside the house. It’s a small, flat little thing, basic and lined up among other very similar looking houses on the street. There’s a tiny strip of overgrown garden in the front, and the blinds in the window obscure the view inside.

“Whose house is she living in up here?” Clytemnestra mumbles, but it’s not a question she expects any of them to have an answer for.

“So, I guess, since she only invited Penelope… shouldn’t she be the only one to go in?” Patroclus asks.

“I’m her sister.”

“I know,” Penelope says. “She’s probably going to be upset that I betrayed her trust, though. Could you all just stand out here at first, so I can explain?”

Clytemnestra is frowning, but doesn’t disagree. Just shrugs and rolls her eyes, then gestures towards the front door.

They all stand back as they watch Penelope approach. She pushes open the front gate and take the one stair to the front door, and knocks.

…There’s nothing. She knocks again.

“How do we know if she’s home?” Patroclus asks.

“We don’t,” Clytemnestra says, sighing. “We could be waiting here all day.”

Achilles finds that he’s fidgeting. Watching the way Penelope stands with her hands wrapped around herself.

“She’s here,” Cassandra says.

“How do you know?”

“I saw a shadow through the window.”

They stand in anticipatory silence. Achilles shifts on his feet. He glances at Patroclus, who gives him a nervous smile.

Finally, the door swings open, and Helen throws herself immediately into Penelope’s arms.

“You came,” Achilles can hear her saying, from afar. “You came. Oh, I am so glad to see you – what in god’s name are you doing here?”

Before anyone can stop her, Clytemnestra’s already storming over. He sees the moment Helen opens her eyes, and the recognition washes over her face as she pulls away from her friend and takes a step back. She looks afraid.

And then, Clytemnestra wraps her arms around her sister.

“You stupid bitch,” she’s saying, her voice high. “You… we were all so fucking worried about you, you dumbass!”

Helen’s face melts from an expression of shock into one that is extremely pained.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and it’s almost a sob. “I’m… I’m so sorry. I didn’t think you’d care.”

“Oh shut up. Shut up. I thought you might have… god, Helen.”

They stand, holding each other, for quite a long time. Achilles doesn’t really know where to look. But his heart is telling him that coming up here was certainly the right decision.

He looks up and catches Helen’s eye, and she frowns, confused. Mouths something he can’t hear. Then she pulls away from her sister, wiping an eye, and beckons towards the three of them who are still awkwardly standing on the foot path.

“Come in, everyone,” she says.

So they do.

They pull some chairs into the living room and all sit around. Penelope, Clytemnestra and Helen are all still teary.

“I can offer you tea. Does anyone want tea?” Helen says, wringing her hands together. “But… only black… and we have no milk.”

“No, we don’t want tea,” Clytemnestra says. “Tell us what’s going on.”

Helen nods, and bites her lip. She takes a seat on the couch next to Penelope.

“Okay. Yeah. I will. But, uh. Can I ask, first of all – what these guys are doing here?”

Achilles and Patroclus glance at each other.

“I didn’t want Penelope to travel alone,” Patroclus says. “Uh, that was, before I knew Clytemnestra and Cassandra were coming. She was worried about you, so… I was, too.”

Achilles nods. Then realises Helen’s looking at him expectedly. “Oh. I had the car,” he offers, awkwardly scratching his neck.

To his surprise, Helen laughs. “You’re really the last person I ever expected to see at my doorstep, Achilles. I’ll tell you that.”

He blushes and smiles, giving a little shrug. “I can’t say it makes much sense to me either.”

“All right, god. You’ve all come all the way out here just to find me. I’m… really so sorry about that. I mean it. I have to say, other than Penelope, I genuinely didn’t think anybody would care that I left. That’s why I let her know I was okay. And, I mean, I knew my family would care I was gone, and Menelaus, but I didn’t give a shit what they thought. Not you, Clytemnestra – you were one of the ones I thought… would be glad. That I was gone.”

Clytemnestra seems ready to interrupt, but Cassandra places a hand on her knee and she settles back down. Helen is mostly opting to avoid eye-contact with any of them. On the couch, she looks small. Like she’s trying to disappear into it.

“I guess I’ve been depressed for a long time. I met Paris online – that’s who this house belongs to. He’s not that much older than us, but he has a real job. He was nice to me. We talked a lot, mostly just about our shared interests, but he wanted to meet me in real life. I’m not an idiot – I knew about how he might try to kidnap me or murder me or all that, so I said no. But he kept asking, so in return I asked for proof, and collateral, so that if he did try to hurt me his life would be ruined. And he came to me, at first, because he said he was in love with me. It was easy to be around him. He promised me that if I came back here with him, we could live a happy life. I wouldn’t even have to work at first. And the worse things got at home, the more I didn’t care that it might be a crazy, stupid idea. In fact, that’s why I didn’t tell anyone about it – because I really knew that’s what it was. Crazy and stupid. But I just didn’t care. I didn’t care about what happened to me. This was a sort of… last ditch effort. To see if what he promised could really come true.”

She’s tearing up, now. Achilles can see the teardrops falling onto her balled-up hands. Penelope reaches out and unfurls them, wraps her fingers around Helen’s own.

“I guess it hasn’t worked,” Helen finally says, choking up. “It’s hardly been any time at all and I still feel like I’m dying. I still… I still wish that I were dead.”

There’s a long silence, punctuated by Helen’s gentle sobs she’s trying desperately to hold back. Achilles’ chest hurts.

“You didn’t tell me you felt like this,” Clytemnestra says.

Helen laughs bitterly. “You think I felt I could tell you anything? You hate me. You think I’m dirt.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Bull _shit._ ”

“I don’t. I don’t, okay?” Clytemnestra says, raising her voice. “I never have. I mean, I might sometimes hate you, but I always love you. It’s hard sometimes. I don’t get you – we don’t get each other. We’re only half-sisters, so I guess I’ve always felt like you think you’re half better than me.”

“Oh, come on.”

“I’m serious! You’re perfect in every way, everyone loves you! And then, me, I’m just…  You have to know. That when everyone looks at us, they only see you. Next to you I’m nothing.”

Helen shakes her head, over and over. “That’s just not true.”

“It is! You could never see it. That’s part of why it made me so angry!”

Helen pinches the bridge of her nose and squeezes her eyes shut. Clytemnestra’s expression is pained, her cheeks red with exasperation.

“Okay, well, clearly the two of you fundamentally misunderstand each other,” Cassandra says, calmly. “And are both very sad. So, you have that in common.”

Achilles glances at Patroclus, gives him a ‘ _really, I feel like we shouldn’t be here’_ look, and then Clytemnestra laughs.

“Yeah, you’re right. You’re always right, Cass.”

Cassandra nods. Kisses Clytemnestra on the cheek.

“Helen,” Clytemnestra says, this time her voice is uncharacteristically gentle. “You have to come home with us.”

Helen’s head shoots up, her eyes wide. “I can’t do that.”

“Why? We came all this way to get you.”

“I can’t… I’ll be disowned. Everyone will look at me like… god, I didn’t even finish high school. This is my life now. I have a home.”

Penelope looks around. “This is what you want?”

The empty, dark, dusty rooms. The record player that’s been done spinning for a long while, whirring as the needle screeches with nothing to play. There are unwashed dishes scattered about.

“It’s what I have.”

Clytemnestra stands. “No. Stop being stupid and come home.”

“I’m not stupid, stop calling me that.”

“But you _are._ You’re being an idiot. The police are looking for you, you know? Everyone’s worried sick. That’s pretty fucking stupid of you.”

Helen cocks her head. “Like I said, I have nothing to go back to.”

They stare each other down.

Then, Clytemnestra heads for the door.

“I’m going to wait in the fucking car,” she growls. “Tell me when we’re done here.”

She slams the door. With a sigh, Cassandra stands up and follows her outside.

Penelope looks at Helen sadly. “You’re not happy here, honey. I know your sister can be… that way. But she loves you. I love you.”

Helen purses her lips. “Paris loves me.”

“Who even is this guy? What does he do?”

Helen lowers her eyes and picks at her skirt. Even Achilles, who hadn’t even noticed when she had gone missing, notices now how much weight she’s lost in a short time. Her skin seems pallid and untouched by the sun, her lips nearly the same colour as her skin.

“He works at his father’s office,” she mumbles. “Soon we’ll get married and I’ll probably have a baby.”

Penelope frowns. “That’s really what you want? Is he… do you love him?”

She scoffs. “Of course not.”

“Then…”

“It’s not really about what I feel. It’s about what’s practical, what makes sense. I don’t have delusions about romantic love affairs and I don’t have any big academic dreams, so why not?”

“You’ve always been book smart,” Penelope says. “You could easily go to university.”

“Why? I don’t have anything I want to study.”

Penelope shrugs, pulling back. Growing exasperated. “I don’t know! You can just try it out, see if you like it! You don’t have to go straight into running off with some guy to have kids! That’s… kind of insane, Helen, you know that. If it was what you really wanted, you know I’d support you. But I know you. This isn’t what you want. You’re just giving up.”

Helen looks at her, and then sighs. She looks at Patroclus, then at Achilles.

“What are you doing with your life now, Achilles?”

He stares at her, caught off guard by the question. “Uh. I don’t really know.”

“Isn’t that… doesn’t that scare you?”

“Not really? I figure I have time to work it out. I mean, we’re still young, you know…” he says, rolling his neck, not wanting to be a part of this conversation. “I think if anyone’s supposed to make mistakes and work it out, it’s people our age. I guess.”

He glances at Patroclus. Then back at Helen.

“I guess I know that,” she says. Sighs. “But, it’s just, out of all my possible futures, the one I see here doesn’t seem all that bad. Not any worse than the rest of them.”

“Again, that’s just you giving up. You know ‘just okay’ isn’t all you have to hope for, right?” Penelope says, nearly breathless. “You can have a wonderful life. No – you will. I won’t let you go on thinking you just need to grin and bear it, okay? To start… Odysseus and I are moving out of home as soon as we have secured our jobs. You can live with us, and we’ll be happy.”

Helen shakes her head. “And be a permanent third wheel?”

“It’s going to be a share house. Three or so others, too. I don’t care if he’s my boyfriend, I’ll always be there for you – I sincerely promise that. You won’t have to live at home anymore.”

“What about in the mean time? I just stay here, knowing I’m going to leave Paris… just making him believe I want to spend my life with him when I’m not?”

Achilles shocks himself by interjecting. “You can live with me and my mother. Um… we have more space than we need, and I guarantee she’d want you there. She’s been trying to adopt this guy since we were kids,” he says, pointing his thumb at Patroclus.

“He’s right, she totally wouldn’t mind,” Patroclus says.

“No,” Helen says, shaking her head vigorously. “No, I couldn’t impose on anyone like that.”

“Seriously,” Achilles pushes. “You could just get a part time job, give us a little money if you really feel like you need to. It’s not like we’ll be paying extra rent, anyway.”

Helen looks at him, frowning, bewildered. “That’s… I mean, that’s an incredibly kind offer... But I really… why would you offer that to me?”

“What?” Achilles asks, frowning. “Because, I don’t know.” It’s the right thing to do? It’s the _kind_ thing to do? It’s… what Patroclus would do, probably. He shrugs. “I’m not a complete monster, you know. I can have unselfish impulses.”

Helen’s eyes widen. “Oh, no! That’s not what I –”

“I’m just kidding, it’s okay. But really, why not? Anyway, it is actually a little selfish, too, if I’m being honest. I’m going to be pretty lonely starting next week.”

He glances at Patroclus instinctively, who casts his eyes into his lap. Long, dark eyelashes fanning out over his cheeks.

Penelope pulls Helen’s attention back to her. “Please. Come home with us. Let me try to show you it can be good.”

She cups Helen’s face in her long, slender hand, and Helen pushes into it, eyes fluttering closed. A tear rolls down her ashen cheek, and she lets out a long, shaky sigh.

“I don’t deserve this,” she murmurs. “All of you, coming for me.”

Penelope pulls her into a hug. “Of course you do. You deserve the world. Please.”

“Oh shush. I’ll come, all right. You’ve convinced me.”

Something unfurls in Achilles chest. He realises, after a moment, it must be relief.

Achilles stands up. “We should go outside. Let you… do whatever you have to do.”

Helen nods over Penelope’s shoulder, and smiles at him. Her eyes are rimmed red and her nose is also a little red, but she looks sweet as a summer’s morning. He looks at Patroclus, who also stands, and then they leave the house.

Outside, Clytemnestra and Cassandra aren’t in the car. Clytemnestra’s leaning against it, head in her hands. Cassandra is standing with her arm wrapped around her and head on her shoulder.

“She’s going to come home,” Achilles tells them. Clytemnestra looks up, and it’s pretty obvious she’s been crying.

“Oh,” she mumbles. Sniffs, and then nods. “Okay. I’m going to book flights.”

“What?”

“There are only five seats in a car, so we’ll fly back. I didn’t fly up because, well, Penelope was so insistent on coming. And my parents would figure out where we are. I’m happy to fork over the money for anyone who wants to come, but I guess at least one of you have to ride this shit-heap back, because you’re so unreasonably attached to it.”

Achilles scowls. “Wow, thanks. You’re welcome for the ride, by the way.”

She ignores him and walks over to the side of the road, pulling out her phone to make a call.

Achilles sighs. “I guess we can ride home together,” he says to Patroclus. “It’s not that far if we don’t make as many stops. Unless you want me to go alone, which would be fine.”

“Come on, man. Of course I want to go with you.”

“It’s seriously fine if you don’t.”

“You’re seriously an asshole.”

Achilles snorts, and rolls his eyes, grinning.

Finally, the girls emerge from the house. Helen gives them a smile.

“I know I ought to break up with Paris in person, but I left a letter and promised I’d call later. I won’t be surprised if we’ll be seeing him soon back at home. But I just want to leave with you guys. I want to go home.”

Clytemnestra books the flights, and they decide to find a place to share a late lunch before the girls get a taxi to the airport and the boys head off home. Penelope offers to drive with them but Achilles assures her they’ll be perfectly fine without her. Really, it’s like last night in the hotel room didn’t even happen. Just like Patroclus wanted. They feel right back to normal.

Which is when it really hits home, for Achilles. Being in love with his best friend really is just the status quo. He’s just never thought about it until now, but it’s always been this pit in his stomach. So close, close enough to touch, but at the same time so fucking far away. His heart is so used to the longing he forgot it wasn’t the way he should feel.

And it makes him hopeful that after Patroclus leaves in a week, maybe the feeling will finally have a good enough reason to fade away.

At least this trip gave Achilles something to remember when he’s gone.

 

-

 

By the time they get to the first campsite, late, late that evening – they’re too tired even to speak. It’s a miracle they get the tent up, because the second it is, Achilles collapses inside and sleeps like the dead.

When he wakes up the next morning to the chirping birds and bare beginnings of sunlight, he realises that overnight he’d wrapped himself around Patoclus’s body as they slept. And he’s hard. Great, excellent.

Patroclus isn’t awake. Achilles can see his sleeping face as he lifts his head quietly, and can both hear and feel his even, steady breaths. Both of their legs are tangled in Achilles’ sleeping bag, which bunched up around their feet during the night. They must have pushed it down when it got too hot. Achilles knows he should pull away, but the rustling of the sleeping bags would probably wake Patroclus to the situation. Although, he thinks, what even is this in the grand scheme of things when he’s already sucked his best friend off anyway?

He lets his head fall back down and studies the back of Patroclus’s neck sleepily. It’s a little damp, curls sticking to the skin. Achilles wants to lick him. Wake him up by kissing down from his neck to his shoulders.

He gradually moves his head closer to Patroclus, and his body, until his chest is flush against his back. Completely unable to help himself, he pushes his nose into the damp curls on his neck and sighs.

Patroclus groans, and he freezes.

“G’morning,” he mumbles, barely audible. Achilles sighs again.

Then, Patroclus pushes his body back into him, arching his spine. Achilles’ breath catches. After a moment, he pushes back.

All too abruptly, Patroclus turns to face him, and he’s shocked, worried that he’s going to say something. Instead, he lowers his eyes so they aren’t making any eye contact, wraps his arms around Achilles’ waist, and pushes their hips together. And oh, god, apparently he’s not the only one who woke up like this. He leans over and shoves his forehead into Patroclus’s collarbone so he won’t see Achilles’ pained expression as they slowly start to rub against each other.

After a few moments, Patroclus pushes Achilles back by the shoulder so he’s lying flat, and he’s terrified Patroclus is going to get up and leave for real this time, but then he just climbs on top of him. And looking up at Patroclus like this – it’s a sight to behold. His hair is all mussed from sleeping and he looks soft, the warm blue light from outside outlining his body. He’s not wearing a shirt, thank god, because his chest is so beautiful, all angles and softness in just the right places. Achilles wants to map it out in its entirety with his lips and tongue. He’s sitting just atop Achilles’ thighs, and after a few moments, he lifts up to pull down both his shorts and underwear in one swift movement. Achilles bites his lip, face burning as he watches Patroclus’s eyes fixed on where he’s red and hard and leaking, half afraid he’s going to make some disgusted sound, or laugh, or something.

But then Patroclus just sighs and bites his lip, reaches down, and takes him in hand. Achilles chokes on a moan, instinctively arching his back into the touch. For one long, torturous minute, Patroclus just feels him, as if working it out, trying out what way is best to hold him, what makes him moan. Finally, he looks back up at Achilles (who must look utterly ruined right now) and releases his red lower lip from his teeth, eyelids low and heavy.

“I’m gonna,” he starts, then looks back down, and seems to think showing is better than talking, because he pulls down his own shorts and pushes their cocks together. Achilles rolls back his head and slam his eyes shut while letting out a noise he didn’t know he could make. Never in his life would he think something like this would feel so good. It just gets all the better when Patroclus tries to take them both in his hand at once, stroking up and down, and Achilles has to try and restrain his hips from bucking up too much.

He manages to look back up at Patroclus again, who is focused on his hand, where they’re pressed together, and Achilles’ chest his heaving so much it’s like he’s just been on a ten-kilometre run. Patroclus glances up at Achilles, then with his free hand reaches for Achilles’ own left hand, bringing it to where he’s stroking. He wraps his fingers around them on instinct. It’s like they’re holding hands, fingers linked between one another’s as Achilles matches his rhythm. Which is very intimate. His heart aches. Can’t take deep enough breaths. Patroclus starts to buck his hips, letting out these helpless little whimpers, and Achilles chokes, heart stopping as he comes all over himself. He feels and hears Patroclus follow seconds after, groaning long and deep, slowing their hands and hips to a halt.

All he wants is to pull Patroclus down into the mess on his stomach and kiss him until they can’t breathe and their lips ache from it, but Patroclus quickly rolls off him and leans over to his backpack. Achilles shivers, not really cold. Patroclus turns back with a pack of tissues and swallows, considering, before reaching up to Achilles’ stomach and wiping him clean. The slow, gentle movements are so careful and full of all this meaning and Achilles feels like he might die.

“Sorry about that,” Patroclus says as he finishes. Achilles can only shake his head. He thinks he’s lost his voice. And his senses. And his mind.

Patroclus pulls a new pair of shorts and a shirt on, and Achilles lets his eyes drift shut so that he can have an excuse not to break the silence with awkward small talk. Or, you know, in case some emotions spill out of him in his vulnerable state that should definitely remain kept to himself. He rolls over and pretends he’s still half-asleep, listening to the zip of the tent, and only lying back straight once Patroclus is gone. Achilles sighs deeply, rubbing his eyes.

He rolls over to Patroclus’s side of the bed. It smells like him.

 

-

 

The next day, they drive mostly in silence, just listening to music and making inane comments here and there. It’s like if they acknowledge anything about what happened, or what’s about to happen, the world might shake apart. Achilles believes it’s a real possibility.

By the time they’re almost home, he’s completely exhausted both emotionally and physically. There’s so many things he wants to say that die in his throat.

One thing he manages is, “I’m really glad we got Helen to come home.”

“Mmm,” Patroclus agrees. They got a text yesterday from Penelope saying they had Helen come clean to the police and her parents, and that she was staying over at Penelope’s in the meantime. She’s an adult, now, so there’s not much they can do about it. Achilles has already told his mother everything in a long phone call and she was expectedly empathetic and enthusiastic that Helen come stay with them as long as she needs. That was an enormous relief, because he doesn’t know what he would do if what he promised didn’t end up being true. Somehow, though, he just knows it wasn’t a lie.

When they finally arrive home, Achilles drops Patroclus off and they promise to meet tomorrow. There’s dread in Achilles stomach as he drives away, all too aware that in three days now his best friend would be gone.

Three days counting today. So two days.

The moment he gets home, without getting a single thing out of his car, he finds his mother standing in the kitchen.

“Oh, hello, honey! You – oh dear. You smell like camping.”

Achilles looks at her, and recognition flashes over her face. He takes a deep breath, and breaks down into tears. She's warm, and soft, and the way she hugs him back and starts off with her sympathetic noises just makes it harder to hold back. He feels himself unravelling in her arms, the knot in his chest unfurling, spilling out all over the floor.

 

 

Later, they’re on the couch, Achilles’ head lying in her lap.

“Shhhh,” she whispers. “Oh, it’s okay, darling. You’ll be okay.”

“I can’t,” he chokes, voice so high it cracks. “I can’t live without him.”

She leans down and kisses his temple. “I know. Shhh. I know, sweetheart. I know.”


	6. Chapter 6

He’s lying in bed the next morning, and his phone bleeps. Six unread messages.

 

**Penelope**

8:21 a.m.

_should we have a goodbye party tmrw for pat?_

9:45 a.m.

_ok im assuming ur sleeping in so were gonna start planning it_

 

**Unknown Number**

9:23 a.m.

_hey shitheel thanks for everything. I mean it_

_even if I still think you are a bit of a shitheel_

 

**Patroclus**

9:03 a.m.

_hey I’m so sorry but my foster parents are demanding I spend the day with them before I go like we’re some kind of fucking family or something so I can’t hang out_

_but pen asked if I could keep my schedule open for tomorrow so I’m guessing we’re doing something then?_

 

He rolls back into his pillows without answering any of the messages. The sun is shining through the cracks in his blinds, and his room feels strange, like there’s something off. It’s light enough that he can see everything but it’s still artificially dark, despite the day trying to creep in through the windows.

There’s still pillows piled up on the floor where he and Patroclus watched movies before exams. Their results should be coming out soon, he thinks, somewhere in the back of his mind, only really aware of it because of how it might affect Patroclus. Achilles is going on a pass/fail basis. Never really been bound for higher education, and whenever he had thought he might be he knew he was fooling himself. It’s just about Patroclus. About when he would leave.

There’s not a place in the room he can look without seeing him. That’s what’s wrong with his bedroom, and probably would be for a long time. The absence of Patroclus. That he was sleeping alone.

Gradually he manages to get out of bed and make his way to the kitchen. His mother is out working but left a bag of pastries on the countertop with a note saying  _Have a good day, my love! Call me if you need me. Be back around five. xoxoxox_

Collapsing on the couch with one of the pastries, he tries to eat but can’t work up much of an appetite.  He flicks through the channels on the television without much interest, when his phone buzzes again.

 

**Penelope**

11:20 a.m.

_by the way, are u ok? wanna talk? come over?_

_helen and i are here_

 

He stares at the text for a few minutes, considering. How strange to be asked to hang out with Penelope and Helen, when only two weeks ago he wasn’t totally sure who Helen was. But he finds that actually, at the moment, he does kind of want to see them. Or anyone.

 

**Achilles**

11:25 a.m.

_Or you two could come to me? I’m home alone anyway._

 

Penelope responds enthusiastically, and within twenty minutes they’re knocking on his front door. With more food. Helen already looks brighter, sun kissed, with colour in her cheeks. She smiles sweetly, and genuinely, when Achilles welcomes them inside. 

“How are you feeling?” Penelope asks as they sit.

“I should be asking her that,” Achilles responds, gesturing at Helen. “How did everything go?”

Helen tenses her body, clenching her hands into the couch. She casts her eyes down. “Ah, you know. Okay, considering everything.” Then, she shakes her head, and smiles again. “Anyway, don’t deflect the question! How are you?”

He considers lying, but then just gives a sigh. “I feel like shit.”

Helen frowns. “Oh, god. What’s wrong?”

Achilles glances at Penelope. He guesses she wasn’t lying after all, about not telling anyone. Though he’s surprised it’s not written over his head in a neon sign at this point.

“Well,” he says, “I’m in love with Patroclus. And he’s leaving.”

Helen gasps. “What?”

And so he tells her everything he told Penelope. About the kiss and the realising that he was bisexual and in love with his best friend and the hooking up in the hotel. But he leaves out the rest. It feels to raw and he’s already giving away what is probably too much information to these poor girls.

“Oh, Achilles. Oh. I’m so, so sorry,” Helen says.

She kind of reminds him of his mother. He thinks they’ll get along well.

“To be honest,” she adds, “I kind of thought the two of you were dating all throughout high school.”

Penelope lets out a huff of laughter, and Achilles groans. Seriously, how many people thought that?

“What about when you guys talked on the boat?” Penelope asks.

“Oh, yeah. Well. I told him I was sad he was leaving, of course, and he said that he would stay if I wanted him to. Which I do, but also, I don’t – because that’s… never something I would ask of him.”

Helen nods thoughtfully. Penelope just blinks. “He said he’d stay here for you? As in… not even go to university abroad?”

Achilles shrugs. “Yeah. But that’s not important, because I’m not going to suggest he gives up on his whole academic future just for me.”

“No, I get that,” she says. “I just think… you don’t think it’s significant, that he’d say that to you? If I were in his situation, I wouldn’t say that to just anyone.”

It’s not like he doesn’t know that. What they have is not a normal kind of friendship, he’s been aware of that fact all along. It’s just not what he actually wants it to be. He didn’t even know what he wanted until a few days ago, anyway.

But Helen seems to agree with Penelope. “To be perfectly honest, if I were him, I also wouldn’t suggest staying here unless I wasn’t sure that going away was what I wanted. You’ve talked a lot about his dreams, but is that really only achievable if he goes away? Are you completely sure?”

“No. I mean, you’ve got it wrong,” he says. “He’s not – he has to go away from here because he hates it here. He wants a new start somewhere else, somewhere where he has the best chances at the best career. I’m the only thing he’ll miss and he’s told me that.”

“I understand what you’re saying,” Helen says. Her voice is so calming. “But truly, it sounds to be that he may be asking you to give him a reason to stay.”

Achilles stops short, unable to answer. His face pinches into a frown. What was it that Patroclus had said?  _‘It feels like ages since I’ve been around you and thought anything other than how much I’m going to miss you.’_ That they were the other half of each other’s bodies.

He swallows. Could he have possibly meant that… That Achilles, that –

That they were each other’s home.

Achilles sighs, shaking all the doubt from his mind. “I don’t know. It’s just. It’s all too late now, anyway.”

Penelope and Helen look at each other, and Achilles sighs again, longer and more dramatic.

“Can we please just take our minds off it all?”

They look at each other again.

“Oh, sure,” Penelope says, slowly. “Yeah.”

“That’s not a problem,” Helen nods.

He looks at them blankly. “You want to plan his party for tomorrow, don’t you.”

They both grimace, and then nod. He just sighs and asks for a break, first, to watch some trashy reality television and stuff themselves on food. Then they get overly invested in the contestants of a cooking show, and end up watching for five straight hours.

Eventually his mother comes home, and is utterly delighted to meet Helen, who is completely flustered at first. But soon enough they fall into a rhythm that Achilles intuitively knew would come naturally to the two of them. He finds himself quite legitimately happy and distracted as they all make dinner together while listening to his mother’s favourite old records, selected by Helen. As though they’re some sort of haphazardly assembled family.

The evening drags on, and the girls then tell Helen that they’re planning a party for Patroclus tomorrow, and they all start talking about what to do, so Achilles wanders back into his bedroom to lie down. There are messages on his phone from Patroclus.

 

**Patroclus**

3:23 p.m.

_hey this day is a straight up nightmare_

_how are you?_

**Achilles**

8:29 p.m.

_I’m fine. How are you? Everything okay?_

 

**Patroclus**

8:30 p.m.

_oh hey you ARE alive_

_and yeah I’m fine I guess_

_not really how I wanted to spend today_

 

**Achilles**

8:31 p.m.

_Yeah._

 

**Patroclus**

8:33 p.m.

_seriously it’s been one day and I already miss you_

_and I haven’t even left yet_

 

Achilles rolls over to his side, and feels a tear roll down his cheek. He shakes his head, trying not to let his emotions overwhelm him.

 

**Achilles**

8:38 p.m.

_Well, we’ll be seeing each other tomorrow. Penelope and Helen seem to be planning you a party._

 

**Patroclus**

8:41 p.m.

_yeah_

_that’ll be fun_

_I guess_

**Achilles**

8:43 p.m.

_Yeah. I guess._

 

When it gets late enough, the girls finally decide to go home to Penelope’s to sleep. Thetis heads off to bed soon after. Achilles sits out on the front porch for a while, watching the night go by. The small summer sounds.

Eventually he’s too tired to stay awake, so he heads inside to go to bed. But when he’s lying down, completely exhausted, he can’t sleep. Can’t stop thinking about Patroclus, about everything. About his life and what it’ll be without him. About everything Helen had said about the future. About the giant, gaping void that stood ahead of him, and the almost instantaneous flash of what was left behind.

When it came down to it, he thought, it was all about figuring out what mattered. Prioritising the right things to make yourself happy. Unfortunately, he had a pretty good idea right now about exactly what that was, and there wasn’t much he could do to salvage it.

 

-

 

**Patroclus**

9:02 a.m.

_so penny told me we’re meeting at your place around 12_

_can I come over before? I kinda want to talk_

_just us two_

 

Achilles groans as he reads the message, still half asleep. It’s 11:32 already. He hopes Patroclus doesn’t think he’s just ignored him instead of sleeping in late because he couldn’t fall asleep last night. And was too short-sighted not to set an alarm.

 

**Achilles**

11:33 a.m.

_Fuckkkkkkkk I’m sorruy I just owke up_

_Sorry o_

_You can come over now! I slept in_

 

He blinks and sits up, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. To wake himself up he gets out of bed and tries to do some push-ups. On the third one, he collapses with a groan face first onto the rough, carpeted floor. And then he just lies there.

It doesn’t register, how long he’s been lying on the floor, until his blinds rustle. He opens his eyes, and light floods the room. Then there’s Patroclus, crouching down and tilting his head to face him.

“Hey,” he says. “Lying on the floor?”

Achilles nods, his cheek rubbing against the carpet. “What time is it?”

“Ten to twelve.”

Achilles closes his eyes and groans again. “I should probably… get up.”

“No shit, man. Come on.”

Patroclus grabs Achilles by the hand and reaches out his other one, which he grunts with the effort of grabbing onto. Then he’s being hauled upwards, a little dizzy as he stumbles, upright.

“I can’t believe you’re the most athletic person I know,” Patroclus laughs. “Jeez, were you awake all night, or something?”

Achilles frowns. “I’m sorry. You wanted to talk but they’ll be here in like… ten minutes.”

“It’s fine, seriously. You have to change. And shower. Come on, we can talk later.”

He’s practically pushed into the bathroom, randomly selected clothes in hand. The shower is as brief as he can make it, and he gets changed while he’s still a little wet, so they cling to his skin. It doesn’t matter, he decides with a shrug, and goes back into his bedroom, which now has Patroclus, Helen, Penelope and – surprisingly – Odysseus, inside of it.

“Okay, we don’t all have to be in my room,” he mumbles. “I haven’t cleaned it in, uh… ever.”

Penelope laughs. “I can’t believe you just woke up. Come on, we have things to do!”

They walk out into the hallway and there’s a knock on the door. Clytemnestra and Cassandra are both here, too, holding hands in the doorway. He smiles when he greets them, genuinely trying to be happy that they’re all spending time with each other, despite the fact that all he wants is to lock himself and Patroclus inside his bedroom and never come out again.

He also wasn’t really listening last night to Penelope and Helen (and his mother) make plans, so he has no idea what they’re doing today. He cringes when Penelope pulls out a large bag containing multiple board games.

“We’re playing twister. It’ll be fun. No arguments.”

There is general laughter around the room, and Achilles tries his best to muster up enthusiasm as they all fumble over each other. He’s out very quickly, which is a surprise to almost everyone, and then just watches from the couch with his face in his hand. Odysseus lasts to the final three, but it ends with a heated, all-too-long faceoff between Clytemnestra and Patroclus. They’re basically a human pretzel at this point. Achilles pretends to be discreet in staring at Patroclus’s ass, and probably fails miserably, blushing when he makes eye contact with Penelope. It is really very nice, though, so what can he do?

With left hand to a blue space, Patroclus finally collapses, and Clytemnestra shoots upwards and jumps, pumping her fist in the air. She shouts enthusiastically and dip-kisses her girlfriend, to a chorus of “ooo’s” and an faux-annoyed grunt from Patroclus, who is actually grinning.

“Are you more attracted to me than ever, or what?” Clytemnestra asks, red-faced and smiling goofily.

“Yes,” Cassandra says, completely straight faced. The smile drops from Clytemnestra’s face and she gets redder, before Cassandra breaks into a sneaky grin, and kisses her again.

Everyone agrees that after such a physically exhausting, athletic, and challenging feat, they’ve more than earned a huge lunch. So they walk down to town and find a place where they can sit lazily in the sun and eat a too-big meal and drink too much coffee and talk about inane topics as the afternoon beats on.

“I’m pretty glad this was your idea of a party,” Patroclus says at Penelope. “You know how much I love eating and doing nothing in particular.”

She winks at him, and grins. “I got your number, babe.”

Eventually, they make their way back to Achilles’ house, still vacant and the closest in proximity.

“Okay, so we did get some alcohol. Mostly Clytemnestra did,” Penelope says, heading towards Achilles’ fridge. He didn’t even realise they’d been using it. “Because it is a party. But don’t worry, we’re still going to just play games. And then – just a little something special.”

Patroclus raises his eyebrow. “Special? Do I want to know?”

“You’ll like it, I promise. Or I hope, anyway.”

They all sit around to drink and play some murder mystery game that’s actually pretty fun. It turns out Helen is the murderer, and she does a fun play at acting creepy towards all of them, threatening to cut their skin off and eat them alive and so on. It’s a good time. By the end of it, Achilles realises he’s had quite a bit to drink, and he feels buzzed. Vibrating under his skin. He keeps grinning at Patroclus. Can’t stop.

After the game is packed up, Helen starts fiddling with their DVD player, and Penelope clasps her hands together while looking at all of them like she’s about to commence a meeting. “Okay!” she says. “So we figured Achilles and Patroclus would probably want to spend the rest of the night together – not. Not that way.” She goes beet red, and Achilles widens his eyes. “Stop laughing, Clytemnestra. They’re best friends and he’s leaving – god, anyway, so we just have this one last thing and then we’re going to leave.”

Clytemnestra hums. “Yeah, we’ll leave you two alone.”

“Oh, grow up. Honestly,” Helen says, and Achilles shares and awkward laugh with Patroclus, who he’s sitting next to on the couch, now very aware of how close they are to each other and the heat of his body. As opposed to just “pretty” aware, as he always is, a constant state.

The video starts playing on the screen and Helen and Penelope sit down on the floor. There’s a black screen and white text that just says  _“Patroclus – this is your life!”_  and he hears his friend chuckling beside him.

Cheesy, upbeat music fades in and pictures start to scroll over the screen of Achilles as Patroclus as pre-teens, and he realises the girls must have gotten these pictures from his mother. His breath catches at some of them, heart swelling at the memories. He’s paralysed by nostalgia. So many of them are taken at beaches, Achilles tanned and blonde and all toothy smiles and Patroclus with his skin even darker than usual, either making an incredibly goofy face or a far off, thoughtful stare. People around the room are generally laughing at the pictures, or “aww”-ing, but Achilles can’t move.

The pictures change to some more taken at the start of high school. Patroclus, awkwardly half-growing into his body. Rolling his eyes at the camera while Achilles sulks in the background. Them at fifteen, when Patroclus hit a growth spurt, and he looks a good foot taller than Achilles. A year later, when he’d just about caught up. Some are taken off Facebook – field trips, mid-class candids, awkward school photos. There are a few that he had no idea existed, like the two of them smiling at each other on a bus. It must have been about a year ago.

He sees, in that photo particularly, why so many people assumed they were together. They are looking at each other like there’s no one else alive.

Finally, there are a couple shots taken only in the past week. The first place they stopped to camp, the hotel, the final lunch they all shared before heading home. When the slideshow fades into another black screen reading  _“…and that’s just the beginning!”_  Achilles feels like he’s being crushed under a tonne of bricks. The alcohol in his system isn’t helping.

Everyone in the room is clapping. He stares at the darkness. The space left.

“That was incredibly cheesy. Thank you, you absolute dorks,” Patroclus says, and Achilles can hear the genuine emotion in his voice, breaking through the sarcastic barrier. He gives both Helen and Penelope a hug at the same time, and someone turns the lights on. They go around the room sharing teary farewells, promises that they’ll talk all the time, and that Patroclus will send pictures as often and frequently as possible. Helen comes over and kisses Achilles on the cheek and tells him she’s looking forward to coming here next week to stay, and he nods in agreement, pulling her into a hug. Can’t think of much to say, but is drunk enough to want to hug everyone in the room. But especially Helen, who is soft and kind and has a face like she understands. She cups the side of his cheek and gives him a warm look before heading outside. Penelope offers him a concerned but supportive backwards glance.

And then, after the door closes on the rest of them, they’re alone. It strikes him he doesn’t know where his mother is, that maybe she went somewhere for the night. He’s not sure and doesn’t really care.

Patroclus shoves his hands in his pockets, and bounces on his heels. “So,” he says. “What should we do?”

Achilles sighs. “I dunno. I kind of want ice cream.”

Patroclus’s eyes light up, and he grins, all teeth. They scoop out some ice cream into bowls and walk into Achilles’ room, collapsing into the cushions on the floor.

“I think… m’drunk,” Achilles slurs thoughtfully, shoving a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. And it’s the best thing ever. He loves ice cream. He loves food, and eating. And alcohol.

Patroclus laughs. “Yeah? I’m a little fuzzy. Are you tired?”

Achilles whines and stretches out his leg, kicking at Patroclus’s foot.

“What?”

He just keeps kicking.

“What?” Patroclus asks, laughing through his spoonful. “Stop it!”

Achilles whines again, rolling his head back against the bed and staring at his beautiful friend. The love of his life. “Don’t go.”

He kicks again. Patroclus blinks. “What?”

“Please,” he says. “Please. I can’t. Don’t go.”

Patroclus is just staring at him, so he groans and puts down the ice cream to the side so he can fully lie down. He tugs his hair out of its tie and lifts his head, letting it splay out beneath him on the pillow as he rolls his head back and purses his lips at his friend.

“I know… I know I should want you to go,” he mumbles. “But I don’t. I don’t know what I’ll do here without you. I’ll be so lonely without you…Can’t do it.”

Patroclus’s mouth is hanging open. He shakes his head. “Are you… are you serious? I mean, are you talking about the internship? Or…”

Achilles reaches out his hand and puts it over Patroclus’s, who is frowning and no, why is he frowning like that. Achilles frowns back.

“At all. I can’t… I mean. I want. I want you to stay here with me,” he says, and it comes out a little whiny and he hiccups at the end. He throws his other arm back and his hand accidentally lands in the bowl of ice cream, which just makes him sigh, not even bothering to move it. When he looks back at Patroclus, there are tears in his eyes. Wait. What? Achilles sits up, or tries to, but gets a little dizzy.

“Are you kidding me?” he says. “You can’t… it’s too late. On the boat I asked you. You said no. You said…”

Patroclus tugs his hand away.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he says, after a deep breath. “I can’t stand this.”

Achilles tries to bring himself into full consciousness, but he’s still not fully processing what’s going on, other than that there’s a horrible pit in his stomach and Patroclus is getting up to leave. Which is very bad. He shouldn’t have said that. What did he say, exactly?

“Patroclus, please, I don’t –”

“No,” Patroclus says, picking up his bag off the floor and heading towards Achilles’ door. Panicked, Achilles stands too and is hit with a wall of dizziness. “You can’t do this to me. I love you, but. I… I can’t do this.”

“Wait,” Achilles croaks, but it’s so feeble, and Patroclus is already out the door. His mind is screaming at him to do something when he hears the front door slam.

Achilles stands in his room for a few moments, swaying, dumbstruck. Then, he throws up on the floor.

 

-

 

When Achilles wakes up the next morning, he’s lying on the floor of his bathroom, face pushed up against the cold, hard tile. He’s not wearing a shirt and he’s got – for some reason – only one shoe on, with no socks. Also, he feels like he’s dying.

It takes him about a minute to remember what happened. And then he wishes he was dying.

After a good half an hour’s effort to just get off the floor, he manages to stumble into his bedroom, then remembers what he did in it last night, and heads for the kitchen instead. It’s only six in the morning. His body must have woken itself up out of discomfort. After a glass of water, he makes his way to the couch and collapses onto it with a groan.

He’s exhausted, and needs to sleep some more. But Patroclus’s flight is at ten, and he’ll probably sleep through it. So he gets out his phone and quickly types something out, eyes stinging with tears as he does, before falling back asleep.

 

**Achilles**

6:04 a.m.

_I’m so sorry about last night. I had no right to ask that of you._

_Have a safe flight._

_I love you._

 

-

 

For the next week, he’s hardly a functioning human being. His mother manages to keep him alive with food and water which he seems to forget how to do in his desolation. Helen officially moves in, and proves to be the perfect moping company. They watch a lot of gory horror movies together, and she seems pretty content with not leaving the house.

He hasn’t had one message from Patroclus.

A month goes by.

Achilles has been applying for part time work but there’s not exactly an abundance of employment opportunities abound lately, and he’s thankful that his mother understands this and doesn’t kick him out or moan about him being a freeloader. Helen gets a job easily at a local bakery because she’s charming and lovely and doesn’t do things like flip people off when their backs are turned or get into fights and rock up to interviews with a black eye.

He kind of knew that one wasn’t going to go so well.

One afternoon he’s moping in the dark and Helen comes home with skateboards she found abandoned near her work, scuffed up and a little wobbly, and drags him outside where through trial and a whole lot of error they learn to skate together. He falls a lot. She does too, to begin with, but not nearly as much. She says he has “too much leg” and is “just limbs”.

Penelope and Odysseus are also struggling to get jobs, and sometimes they all hang out at Achilles’ house and he feels all right. He even starts to become actual friends with Odysseus, mainly for Penelope’s sake. They reveal that they got engaged and he gives them both a hug, kisses Penelope on the cheek, doesn’t even tell her that she’s too young because she’s not. Most days she feels like the oldest person he knows. She tries often to talk to him about Patroclus and he begs her not to, to please not tell him what he’s been saying to her because if it’s about him, it’s bad, and if it’s not at all about him, he can’t handle that either.

Several times he types out an email that explains to Patroclus everything he’s ever felt about him and then deletes it with a sigh. He meets a sweet girl named Alexa and they date on and off for a while. She’s not super into it but neither is he so it’s kind of perfect. Two months later she tells him she’s met someone else, gently explaining that unlike Achilles, he is “all there” and that they had a nice thing while it lasted.

More than anything he just feels bored, and tired, with not much to look forward to. He finally gets a job in construction and the days go by. Odysseus and Penelope move out but Helen doesn’t go with them, which he’s so thankful for he doesn’t even know what to say, just curls up on the couch with her and lays his head in her lap as she strokes his hair.

He dreams so often that Patroclus is there and every time he wakes up crying. He jerks off lonely and miserable in the shower and hates himself and still thinks about those nights in the summer even as they fade and he starts to wonder if they really happened or if he dreamt it all.

Before he knows it, the winter and spring have come and gone, and a year has passed. He’s nineteen. And he feels the same.

And a day after his birthday, in the middle of the day, his day off, there’s a knock at the door.

When he’s looking at Patroclus again, eye to eye, he has no idea what to say. His mouth just sort of hangs open. Then he frowns. Then he swallows. Tries three times to make his voice work, before the words finally just sort of tumble out against his will.

“You… look different,” he manages.

Patroclus has a little bit of a beard; his hair is longer. It’s always been wild but it’s a mess now. His skin is a little paler, like he hasn’t been in the sun as much, and he has none of his usual freckles. He’s also maybe a little bit thinner.

“So do you,” Patroclus replies. He supposes he must. He’s gotten stronger, working in construction. Cut his hair a little at some point.

Achilles really doesn’t know what to say. Figures there’s one way to start. “What are you doing here?”

Patroclus rubs nervously at his arm. “Can I come in?”

After a moment, Achilles nods wordlessly and steps aside, letting Patroclus walk past him and stand awkwardly beside the couch. It’s a mess in the living room. Newspaper is covering the floor and there’s paints everywhere surrounding a canvas that faces the window.

“Are… who’s been painting?”

“Helen,” Achilles says, taking a seat. “You can sit, you know.”

He does, looking around the room. “Helen still lives here?”

“Yeah,” Achilles nods, wondering why Penelope hasn’t told him that already. “She’s at work right now.”

Patroclus nods back, pursing his lips. He looks up at Achilles, meeting his eyes like he’s afraid it’ll burn him.

Achilles takes a deep breath. “What are you doing –”

“I spent the year at Cambridge,” Patroclus cuts him off. “Studying. I got… Penelope might have told you.” Achilles shakes his head no. “Oh. Well, yeah. I’m… I did good, I guess. Fine. It’s been okay, and I made some new friends, and I mean, I kept my grades up enough to keep my scholarship.”

Achilles blinks at him, a little angry. “Good for you,” he says, and it comes out cold and not very sincere, because he’s confused and angry and why is he here?

Patroclus sighs, frustrated, running a hand through his hair. “I’m. I’m sorry, I’m trying to… Okay. I’m saying it was fine but what I want to say is that I’ve spent a whole year thinking… about you, or us, or whatever. That trip over the summer.”

Achilles’ heart starts beating wildly in his chest.

“I want to talk about it. I spent just about every night, nights before tests and on weekends and at boring, stupid parties just thinking about what happened between us. The whole time. And I wanted to talk to you, email you or whatever but I needed to see your face. So I spent all my fucking money coming back here just to do that.”

Achilles scowls. “You didn’t have to –”

“No, I did. Listen to me.” Patroclus takes a deep breath. “We… are really stupid. That’s the only conclusion I’ve managed to come to. Me, at least, especially. But together… I mean, we never talked. That’s why I’m trying to talk to you now, and be completely honest where I haven’t been – couldn’t be, back then. Because I’m starting to think this has all been some really shitty failure to communicate. You kind of leave me speechless sometimes.”

Achilles raises an eyebrow. His heart is in his throat so all he can do is make a joke. “Really? You, speechless?”

“Yeah,” Patroclus huffs. “I mean, okay, not speechless, but unable to say what I really want to say so instead I say like, fuck you, or fuck off, or whatever.”

Achilles can’t stand the pause. “What do you want to say?”

“I think you know.”

Achilles shakes his head.

“Come on.”

He shakes his head again, and huffs. “Aren’t you trying to… communicate better?”

Patroclus sighs, again, and nods. “Yeah. Sorry. Why is this so hard. Jesus. I don’t know. I’ve missed you so much. Did I say that yet? Sorry. Ugh, let me start over.” He stands up and walks around the couch, leaning his hands on the backrest, forcing himself to look Achilles in the eye. “Okay. Can I ask you a question?”

Achilles nods.

“Why’d you really kiss me? That first time?”

Achilles blinks. Then, he shrugs. “To tell you the truth, I really didn’t know why.”

“Didn’t know? Meaning you do know, now?”

He nods.

“Okay. Okay. So… from my perspective. You kissed me and… told me you just had to, or something, because it had never happened before. So I thought you were like, taking pity on me. Trying to kiss me so that I would never have to lie again and say I’d never been kissed before. But then the next night… I tried to convince myself it was a similar thing. But that doesn’t make sense.”

Achilles feels tears stinging his eyes. “Patroclus… I’m sorry. No, it wasn’t that.”

“No. I know. Now, I know.” Patroclus stops, and looking in his eyes is hard, because he’s so beautiful, and he’s missed him so much, it hurts. It hurts but Achilles also couldn’t stop looking in this moment, not for his life. “Are you in love with me?”

After a long pause, Achilles nods, and feels a tear fall onto his arm. He looks down at his lap and balls his fists. “I shouldn’t have… I should have said something.”

“Yeah,” Patroclus says, almost laughing, which is strange. “Fuck, me too. Fuck.”

He looks back up, and Patroclus is smiling, pained. “Are you – seeing anyone right now?”

“No,” he admits. “I dated a girl for a bit.”

Patroclus nods. “I did too. And a boy.” He flushes. “I had all this confidence, asking them out, because I didn’t really care what they thought. And it was so boring. I mean, nothing was wrong with either of them. But I didn’t…” he trails off, walks back around the couch. Achilles can’t breathe as Patroclus makes his way over to him, kneeling at his feet. “They just weren’t you.”

Achilles just stares, disbelieving. When he speaks, it’s a breath, realisation knocking all the sense out of him. “What?”

“I’m so in love with you, it’s insane,” Patroclus says, and Achilles hardly lets him finish, hauling his body up into his lap and kissing him like he’s dying, drowning, and Patroclus is the only thing that can save him.

It almost hurts. They kiss and they’re both crying, he realises, tasting the salt and feeling the wetness of their faces, but he doesn’t care. At all. He puts everything into the kiss, all his feelings and hurt and longing and missing him. Bites at Patroclus’s lip and feels his body light up at the noise he makes.

Finally he pulls back and presses their foreheads together. “This,” he breathes. “We are so monumentally stupid.”

“I know,” Patroclus says, placing another kiss to the side of his mouth, which he chases. Opens up Patroclus’s mouth and sucks on his lip and then his tongue, groaning long and deep. They pull back again.

“I thought,” Achilles says. “I don’t know why. I thought you were just… I never would have thought you felt the same way. I only realised the night after I kissed you drunk that I was in love with you, always had been. And it never. Patroclus, I swear, I was just –”

“– being a dumbass, yeah, I know,” Patroclus laughs. “Me too. So stupid. Although, I’ve known I loved you since I was thirteen, and have just been waiting for it to go away.”

Achilles frowns, reaching up to run a thumb over his cheek. “Oh,” he sighs. Thinks about how he dated other people, how that must have felt, how stupid he’s been. “I’m sorry.”

Patroclus shakes his head. “Don’t be. Just kiss me.”

And god, that’s a request he would never be able to refuse, under any possible circumstances. Threat of certain death. Kissing him before was good, and kissing him now, in this moment, is transcendent. Knowing they’re really on the same page. Feeling the way Patroclus grabs at him, tugs him closer even though they’re already practically glued together. They kiss for so long Achilles thinks they might have left the boundaries of time and space. There’s just the two of them, together. Two bodies helplessly attached.

He has to throw his head back and detach their mouths when Patroclus grinds against his hips against him. Nearly blacks out when he looks back up and sees his face, eyes so dark, lips so red.

His breath catches as Patroclus extracts himself from Achilles’ lap, sliding down so he’s back on the floor, hardly even hesitating before he’s tugging at his waistband, pulling down his pants. Achilles wants to say something, but his brain isn’t really working. Instead, he reaches up and grabs at Patroclus’s hair, which makes Patroclus’s eyes flutter shut and then open again looking dark, almost predatory. Slowly, too slowly, Patroclus pulls down his underwear and doesn’t waste a second pushing his face up into Achilles’ cock, mouth dragging over the hardness there, and Achilles whines and tugs at the hair in his hand. Patroclus’s stubble and soft, red lips are too much already. When he wraps a hand around him and takes Achilles into his mouth, Achilles think he might start crying again.

It’s good. It’s way too good. He wonders if Patroclus did this, with that guy, and then pushes that thought out of his head. It didn’t matter. Nothing in the world really mattered but this moment.

After a minute of sucking and stroking, Achilles accidentally bucks his hips forward and stutters a breath as Patroclus grabs his hips and pushes them back down. He lifts his eyes up and looks directly at Achilles as he goes down, down, takes him all the way down. And then back up, again. So slow. Then he does it again, faster. And again.

Achilles is holding onto his friend’s hair for dear life, trying to still his movements, unable to stop all the loud, embarrassing noises coming from his mouth. He feels that he’s close and groans out “Stop, stop,” and Patroclus pulls off quickly, a string of saliva following his mouth, which is. Fuck.

“What? Are you okay?” he asks, his voice all gravelly and Achilles half-laughs.

“Are you kidding? Jesus. I’m fine. Just…”

Patroclus worries his red, bottom lip. “What?”

He didn’t think he could get any redder, pretty sure even his chest is red at this point, but he takes a deep breath. “I want you to fuck me. I mean… if you. Want that.”

For a moment, Patroclus just stares at him. Achilles wonders if he’s made a mistake.

Then Patroclus is up at his mouth, kissing him almost violently, picking up his body from under his arms and they’re upright, sort of. Achilles scrambles to get his shirt over his head as they stumble into the hallway, stopping for kisses in between, and thank god he knows his Helen won’t be home for at least four hours from now, and his mother for longer.

By the time they’re in the bedroom, Achilles slamming the door behind them (just in case), they’re both completely naked. It’s been a year since he’s seen Patroclus like this, and it’s almost too much, because this time he can look all he wants. Patroclus doesn’t seem to mind, especially as he seems to be doing the same thing to Achilles.

“You are,” Patroclus says, filled with awe. “So fucking beautiful, man.”

“Look who’s talking,” is all he can say, because, wow. “I never want to see you with clothes on, ever again.”

Patroclus laughs at that, and then kisses him, grinning, and they smile into each other’s mouths. Then the kissing turns all hot and desperate again, quickly.

“Achilles,” Patroclus says, between kisses, “Do you… I mean… god, do you really want to –”

“I’ve thought about it,” Achilles groans, his lips rubbing against Patroclus’s stubbled cheek. “Fuck, Patroclus, I’ve thought about it all year.”

Patroclus groans. Leans down to kiss Achilles’ neck, bite at his skin. Which is so good. So good it almost makes his knees buckle.

“Really?” It’s almost a whisper.

Achilles actually lets out a laugh. “God, every fucking night. Sweating into my sheets and thinking about you, your hands,” he swallows, whines. “Your cock. All of you. Came all over myself, again and again, thinking about you.”

Patroclus chokes. He pulls back and cups Achilles’ face in his hands. “Oh my  _god_.” He takes Achilles in a kiss so breathless, it’s barely a kiss. He pulls back, and his pupils are blown. “Seriously, dude. You’re going to kill me.”

Patroclus rubs his thumbs over Achilles’ cheeks, his jaw. He can’t watch that red mouth for too long without pushing in, covering it with his own. They breathe into each other. Collapse onto Achilles’ unmade bed.

“Show me,” Patroclus whispers, and Achilles pulls back with an embarrassed smile. And he does. Slowly, he opens himself up with his fingers, like he’s tried on his own, before, face burning under Patroclus’s scrutiny, but also feeling unbelievably hot. He tries to touch his cock and Achilles bats him away.

“No, don’t,” he chokes. “I’ll come. Just…”

Patroclus whines, stroking all over Achilles’ body, his arms, his sides, his legs. “You can’t be real,” he mumbles.

“Unfortunately, I am,” Achilles grunts out. “Now get in me.”

Patroclus has no smart response to that.

 

-

 

After, Achilles feels boneless, but he can’t stop moving. Running his leg up and down Patroclus’s. Moving his hand over his stomach, his chest, until Patroclus grabs it with his own hand and rubs their thumbs together.

“I never got to say,” Patroclus says, “I’m moving back here.”

Achilles sits up. “What?”

“I transferred. A year in Cambridge wasn’t bad, but I don’t really give a shit where I am unless you’re there too.”

“But,” Achilles says. “But you can’t. You can’t move home for me. That’s crazy.”

Patroclus sighs. “No, it’s not. Come here. Stop frowning.” Achilles doesn’t stop frowning, but he does lie back down on Patroclus’s chest, let him rub his fingers in his hair, kisses him slow and sexy and full of promise. “I love you. I do want to stay in school, but the prestigiousness of said school means fuck all to me at this point. Cambridge is great because it looks like you’re suddenly in Harry Potter. But I can learn my shit anywhere. You’re only here.”

Achilles frowns, and kisses at Patroclus’s neck. “I could move to England with you.”

“No. I mean, that’s very sweet and romantic of you, but England is expensive and honestly kind of sucks. Their food alone is pretty much a nightmare.” Patroclus grabs Achilles’ chin and tips him up so they’re facing each other. “All I ever really wanted was for you to ask me to stay. But by the time you did, you were drunk, and it was too late. I’d already been accepted. And I couldn’t back out on the internship. And I was mad at you for that, because I wanted an excuse to just stay here with you.”

“I’m sorry,” Achilles sighs.

“No, it was my fault. I should’ve just told you what I wanted.”

Achilles kisses him again, slow and soft. “We should’ve done a lot of things.”

Patroclus lets out a soft  _hmm._  They kiss for a while, gently. Achilles reckons he could just do it forever.

“Seriously, though,” he says, pulling back again, and giving Patroclus a mischievous smile. “I sucked your dick and you really thought I just liked you as a friend?”

Patroclus rolls his head back with a groan. “Yeah! Kind of!” he says, and Achilles laughs at him. “Shut up! I  _let_ you suck my dick and then jerked both of us off and you thought I still just liked you as a friend!”

Achilles snorts. “Fuck. Is that not what platonic friends do? Wait. Are you saying we might be kinda into each other because we just had sex?”

“Dude,” Patroclus says, mock horror creeping over his face. “No way.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Achilles replies. “All good friends do that.”

Then they’re both laughing so hard and they can’t stop making jokes and kissing and then laughing again. The afternoon drags on, and it feels nearly impossible to stop touching each other and talking, talking until Achilles felt his eyes droop. He hears Helen come home but they still don’t leave the room. Now, that he had the love of his life here, in his arms, lying beside him, he thinks there’s nearly nothing that could get him to ever leave the bed again.

 

-

 

A week later, the two of them finally leave the house after spending most of the time in bed and being interrogated by both Thetis and Helen about exactly what was going on, then being kind of weirded out by exactly how excited they both were about it all.

“I just knew it,” Achilles’ mother keeps saying, tearing up. “I just knew you two were meant to be together, and that you’d find a way.”

And every time she does they find an excuse to leave the room and let Thetis attach herself to Helen and cry about her beautiful son, and her other beautiful son.

Patroclus, Achilles and Helen meet Penelope, Odysseus, Clytemnestra and Cassandra out in the city for lunch. Penelope is overjoyed to see Patroclus and just overflowing with happiness in general, though slightly less embarrassing about it than his mother was. They’d filled her in over text and she nearly had an aneurism.

“Do you know what it was like? Listening to the both of you love sick babies complain about how much you loved each other? I nearly died, I swear to god. If it wasn’t for Patroclus vowing me to secrecy and my own decency I would’ve sat you two down and articulated exactly how stupid you were both being,” she says, totally exasperated. “Sorry. I’m really happy for you. Just, for a while there, I was a little worried.”

Achilles is blushing, and can tell that Patroclus is also uncomfortable with open discussion about their relationship. It’s something that, despite both of their decisions to include Penelope in its development, felt incredibly private, still. It’s not like he was going to disclose how he could hardly sleep at night, so enamoured by the person next to him, lost in the way he moved and talked and breathed. Everything about him – he was in love with every single part of him.

“You should’ve just done it anyway,” Clytemnestra said. “If I had known, I’d… actually, if I had known I wouldn’t have done anything because I can’t say I really care all that much about other people’s romantic lives. Especially you two dipshits.”

Cassandra rolls her eyes. “She cares about all of you.”

“Shut up! Don’t listen to her. I don’t. You’re all the worst.”

“Oh, sure, sure. I love you, too.”

Clytemnestra blushes and sinks into her seat. Helen watches with curious eyes, a ghost of a smile on her face. She seems kind of vacant. It happens pretty often. Sometimes, she’d talk to Achilles about how she felt, and where she wanted to go, with this beautiful, trembling hope that seemed to grow with each passing month. She was an artist, an honest worker, a kind soul, a good friend, and, he thought, a pretty amazing sister.

“Can I be honest?” Odysseus says, squinting under the sudden afternoon brightness, a stream of orange light covering his face. “I thought you two had been together since… forever.”

Achilles groans, and Patroclus laughs. He takes Achilles’ hand in his own. The cloudless, burnt orange sky and warm wind promised a long summer.

Achilles looks over at his best friend, his boyfriend. The warmth on his face. And in the soft, dying glow of the afternoon, surrounded by friends, he found that instead of mourning the passing days, he was only looking forward to the ones that were still to come, stretching out ahead of them like a sunrise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's done! i'm done! please leave me a kudos/comment/whatever if u liked it it genuinely makes me TOO happy! and come find me [on tumblr](http://o-nibi.tumblr.com) !!!!!!! xoxoxoxooxox


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